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SECTION III 

THE ENGLISH DRAMA 

FROM ITS BEGINNING TO THE PRESENT DAY 



GENERAL EDITOR 

GEORGE PIERCE BAKER 

PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH IN 
HARVARD UNIVERSITY 




The Blackfriars' Theatre 



Reproduced by permission from the collection of 
E, Gardner, Esq.^ London. 



THE 
MAID'S TRAGEDY 

AND 

PHILASTER 

By FRANCIS BEAUMONT 

AND 

JOHN FLETCHER 

EDITED BY 

ASHLEY H. THORNDIKE, Ph.D. 

PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH LITERATURE IN 
NORTHWESTERN UNIVERSITY 



BOSTON, U.S.A., AND LONDON 

D. C. HEATH & CO., PUBLISHERS 
1906 



UfcRARYofCONG'^ESS 
Two CoDies Received 

MAY 8 1906 

>^ -Copyrifrht Entry 

(iLhSS/faJy^^, No. 
^ COPY 6, 



< 



V 



COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY D. C. HEATH & OO. 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



■Biogmpi^t 



Francis Beaumont, third son of Sir Francis Beaumont of 
Grace Dieu in Leicestershire, one of the Justices of Common Pleas, 
was born about 1585 and died March 6, 1 61 6. He was admitted 
gentleman commoner at Broadgates Hall, Oxford, in 1597, and 
was entered at the Inner Temple, London, November 3, 1600. 
He was married to Ursula, daughter of Henry Isley of Sundridge, 
Kent, probably in 161 3, and left two daughters (one a posthumous 
child). He was buried in Westminster Abbey. 

John Fletcher, son of Richard Fletcher, Bishop of London, 
was baptized at Rye in Sussex, where his father was then minister, 
December 20, 1579, and died of the plague in August, 1625. 
He was entered as a pensioner at Bene't College, Cambridge, 1591. 
His father as Dean of Peterborough attended Mary (^ueen of 
Scots at Fotheringay, and was later rapidly promoted to the sees of 
Bristol, Worcester, and London. Handsome of person and elo- 
quent of speech, he was a successful courtier and a favorite of the 
Queen, though he suffered a loss of favor shortly before his death 
in 1596. The dramatist received by bequest a share in his father's 
books, but apparently little other property. He was buried August 
29, 1625, in Saint Saviour's, Southwark. 

The biographical details of the friendship and collaboration of the 
two dramatists are involved in uncertainty. It is not known just 
when Fletcher came to London, when he began writing plays, or 
when he first became acquainted with Beaumont. D'Avenant in 
a prologue at a revival of the Woman Hater ^ evidently alluding to 
Fletcher, declares that ** full twenty years he wore the bays." 
This would place the beginning of his play-writing in 160*4-05, 



a date for which considerable other evidence has been accumulated.* 
In 1607, both he and Beaumont prefixed verses to Volpone (acted 
1605). Beaumont praises Jonson for teaching ** our tongue the 
rules of time, of place," and both appear as Jonson's friends. In 
1607, then, they were well acquainted with Jonson and probably 
with each other. Beaumont wrote commendatory verses for 
Epicoene (1609 ?) and both Beaumont and Fletcher for Catiline 
(161 1 ). Beaumont also wrote commendatory verses, together 
with Jonson, Chapman, and Field, for Fletcher's Faithful Shep- 
herdess (4to 1609 ?) The Woman Hater ^ probably by Beaumont 
alone, was published anonymously, 1607. Beaumont's oft-quoted 
epistle to Jonson is entitled in the 1679 fo^io? '* written before he 
and Master Fletcher came to London with two of the precedent 
comedies, then not finished, which deferred their merry meetings at 
the Mermaid." The reference in the letter to Sutcliflfe's wit seems 
to refer to the pamphlets produced by him in 1606. In 1 6 10, 
Davies' Scourge of Folly was registered, containing an epigram on 
Philaster. In 1 612, in the address to the reader prefixed to the 
White Devil, Webster praises " the no less worthy composures of 
the both worthily excellent Master Beaumont and Master Fletcher," 
ranking them on equal terms with such scholars and experienced 
dramatists as Chapman and Jonson, and apparently above Shaks- 
pere, Dekker, and Heywood. Before 1612, the reputation of 
Beaumont and Fletcher as dramatists must have been well estab- 
lished. 

Only three plays in which Beaumont had a share were published 
before his death, the Woman Hater, 1607, the Knight of the 
Burning Pestle, 161 3, and Cupid'' s Re-venge, 1615; and none of 
these appeared with his name. In addition to his plays, he wrote 
verses to the Countess of Rutland, and elegies on the Lady Mark- 
ham, who died in 1609, the Countess of Rutland, who died in 

1 See The Influence of B.aumont and Fletcher on Shakspere^ A. H. 
Thorndike. 



115iograpt)^ vii 

iSiZy and Lady Penelope Clifton, who died in 1 613. Salmacis 
and Hermaphroditusy 1 602, may possibly have been written by him ; 
it is so assigned in the entry of 1639 in the Stationer's Register. 
In 1 61 3, he wrote a masque for the Lady Elizabeth's marriage, 
which was performed with great splendor by the gentlemen of the 
Inner Temple and Gray's Inn, and published, presumably in the 
same year. There is no direct evidence that he wrote anything for 
the stage after 161 2. 

There is no doubt that Beaumont's reputation as a poet was 
very high even before his death. He was buried in Westminster 
Abbey close by Chaucer and Spenser j and the verses on Shakspere, 
usually attributed to William Basse, bid 

Renowned Spencer lye a thought more nye 

To learned Chaucer, and rare Beaumont lye 

A little nearer Spenser, to make roome 

For Shakespeare in your threefold, fowerfold Tombc, 

To lodge all fowre in one bed make a shift 

Until Doomesdaye, for hardly will a fift 

Betwixt this day and that by Fate be slayne 

For whom your curtaines may be drawn againe. 

Of Fletcher's life after Beaumont's withdrawal from the stage, 
our information is derived mainly from studies of the chronology of 
his plays and of his relations to collaborators. There is no trace of 
any discord between him and any of his fellows ; and his continued 
friendship with Ben Jonson is testified to by the latter in his Coti'uer- 
sations ivith Drutnmond and by the commendatory verses of William 
Brome.^ In 1 612-13, in the opinion of the present writer,^ he 
was engaged with Shakspere in direct collaboration on Henry VIII^ 
the Tivo Noble Kinsmen^ and, perhaps, the non-extant Cardenio. 
From this time on, he wrote three or four plays each year, collab- 
orating on many of these with Massinger, A communication of 

1 Prefixed to Folio, 1647. 

2 The Influence of Beaumont and Fletcher on Shaksfere^ pp. JS-S6. 



viii Biograp^^ 

about this date from Field, Daborne, and Massinger to Henslow 
alludes to a *' play of Mr. Fletcher and ours." Before 1616 he 
wrote for various companies, but after that date so far as can be dis- 
covered, exclusively for the King's Men. Only ten plays in which 
he or Beaumont had a share were printed before his death: five 
with his name, — the Faithful Shepherdess^ 1 609 (?)j Cupid's 
Re-venge, 1615 ; the Scornful Lady^ 16165 -^ ^'"S ^"^ ^° 
King, 1619 ; Phi/aster, 1620, '22 (the last three "by F. 
Beaumont and J. Fletcher"): four anonymously, — the Woman 
Hater, 1 607, the Knight of the Burning Pestle, 1613 j the 
Maid's Tragedy, 1619, '225 Thierry and Theodoret, 1621 5 and 
one in the Shakspere Folio, 1623, Henry VIII. 

There is abundant testimony to the great popularity of Fletcher's 
plays during his lifetime ; and the Beaumont-Fletcher folio of 
1647, containing plays not hitherto printed, was accompanied by a 
formidable array of commendatory verses. The literary reputation 
of the two friends can be judged from the fact that either during 
their lives or after their deaths, their praises were heralded by Jon- 
son, Chapman, Webster, Waller, Denham, Lovelace, Cartwright, 
Herrick, Brome, and Shirley. 

The following list ^ includes all the plays in which either Beau- 
mont or Fletcher had a share, arranged in a conjecturally chrono- 
logical order. The year of the first performance is given, this co- 
inciding presumably with the time of composition. The exact date 
of many of the plays cannot be determined, and matters of date and 
authorship are in debate. Beaumont is not generally credited by 
critics with a share in any of the plays of the second period nor 
with Woman s Prize, Monsieur Thomas, or the Faithful Shep- 
herdess of the first period. 

I TT:e Influence of Beaumont and Fletcher on Shakspere, pp. 92-93. 



llBiograpl)^ 



IX 



First Period, 



PFoman^s Prize ; or, The Tamer Tamea. 


1 604 ? 


Wit at Several Weapons. First version. 


1605 ? 


The Woman Hater. 


1606 ? 


Lovers Cure, or The Martial Maid. 


1606 ? 


Thierry and Theodoret. 


1607 ? 


Monsieur Thomas. 


1607-8? 


The Knight of The Burning Pestle. 


1607-8 ? 


Four Plays in One. 


1608? 


The Faithful Shepherdess. 


1608 ? 


Philaster ; or Love lies a-bleeding. 


1608? 


The Coxcomb. 


1609? 


The Maid"" s Tragedy. 


1609? 


Cupid^ s Revenge. 


1609-10 ? 


The Scornful Lady. 


1610-11 ? 


A King and No King. 


1611 


The Captain. ' "' 


161 1? 


Second Period. 




The Nice Valour ,• or the Passionate Madman. 


1612?? 


The Night Walker-, or the Little Thief 


1612?? 


The Beggar'' s Bush. 


1612?? 


Cardenio. ( Non-extant. ) 


1 61 2-1 3 


The Mask of The Inner Temple. 


1613 


The Two Noble Kinsmen. 


1613 ? 


Henry VIIL 


1613 ? 


The Honest Mans Fortune. 


1613 


Wit Without Money. 


1614? 


Lovers Pilgrimage. 


1614? 


The Faithful Friends. 


1614? 


The Chances. 


1615? 


Bonduca. 


1615 ? 


Valentinian. 


1615-16 ? 


The feiveller of Amsterdam. 


1616-17? 


The Bloody Brother ; or Rolloy Duke of Normandy. 


1617?? 


The Slueen of Corinth. 


c 1617 


The Loyal Subject. 


1618 



Biograpti^ 



The Mad Lo-ver. 


c 1618 


The Knight of Malta. 


c 1618 


Third Period. 




The Humourous, Lieutenant. 


c 1619? 


Sir John -van Olden Barna'veldt. 


I6I9? 


The Custom of the Country. 


c 1619 


The Double Marriage. . 


c 1619 


The Laivs of Candy. 


c 1619 


The Little French Lawyer. 


c 1620 


The False One. 


c 1620 


Woman Pleased. 


c 1620 


Tht Island Princess. 


c 1620 


The Pilgrim. 


c 1621 


The Wild Goose Chase. 


c 1621 


The Prophetess. 


1622 


The Sea Voyage. 


1622 


The Spanish Curate. 


1622 


The Maid in The Mill. 


1623 


The Lo'ver^s Progress {The Wandering Lovers). 


1623 


The Fair Maid of The Inn. 


1623-4 


A Wife for a Month. 


1624 


Rule a Wife and Ha-ve a Wife. 


1624 


The Noble Gentleman. 


1625 ? 


Coronation. 


1625?? 


The Elder Brother. 


1624-5?? 



The De-vil of Do%ugate and the Unfortunate Piety are non- 
extant and it is not certain that Fletcher had any share in them. 



3InttoUuction 



The first plays by Beaumont and Fletcher were not 
written earlier than 1 604, in 1 6 1 2 Beaumont appar- 
ently ceased to write for the stage, and in 1616 he 
died. The brief period of their collaboration thus came 
at the climacteric of the astonishingly rapid and varied 
development of the Elizabethan drama. Thirty years 
before they began, there had been no theatre ; barely 
twenty years before, Shakespeare had first obtained 
employment with a London company of actors ; but the 
public that had then been satisfied with the doggerel 
and personified abstractions of Wilson's comedies was 
by 1604 able to enjoy the exquisite fun and sentiment 
of Twelfth Night and the clever caricatures of Every 
Man in His Humour. The same dramatist who had 
compiled Titus Andronicus was writing Othello^ and 
the development of Shakespeare's genius had been par- 
alleled by the general progress of dramatic art. The 
material prosperity, social status, and literary standing 
of the drama had also greatly improved, and play- 
wrights were frequently gentlemen and scholars who 
brought to their work courtly or critical tastes, de- 
manding new aims and new methods in art. It was 
recognized that the path for future progress was illumi- 
nated by the masterpieces of the past and present, but 
there was no suspicion that the highest point had been 
attained, rather a cry for advance and divergence. 



xii 3(lncroliuction 

The early drama had been nothing if not popular, 
but by the first decade of the seventeenth century the 
dramatists themselves were chafing under the whims of an 
illiterate audience and turning to the cultivated or courtly 
for support. Their appeal came to be less and less to 
the crowd in the pit and more to the gentles who wit- 
nessed the performances at court or sat on the stage 
in the pubHc theatres. Thus Webster excuses the 
defects of the White Devil as a true dramatic poem 
because ** the breath that comes from the incapable 
multitude is able to poison ... the most sententious 
tragedy that ever was written." So Jonson dedicates 
plays to * * the special fountain of manners, the Court, ' ' 
**to the noblest nurseries of humanity and liberty in 
the kingdom, the Inns of Court," and ** to the most 
noble and most equal sisters, the two most famous uni- 
versities." Instances of this sort could be multiplied 
from prologues and dedications ; and further evidence 
of the growing influence of courtly and cultivated pat- 
ronage may be found in the success of the private theatres 
with their higher prices and exclusive audiences, and 
also in the influence of courtly manners and courtly 
entertainments on the public stage. 

In some important respects this change in the character 
of patronage pointed towards decadence. In appealing 
to the populace, the early drama had always been patri- 
otic and usually moral, but the later drama turned to 
a court that possessed neither a national spirit nor moral 
decency. The vulgar crowd that delighted to see the 
field of Agincourt within the wooden O was a sounder 
moral guide than the wits who relished the double en- 



3IntroDuctwn xiii 

tendre of Beaumont and Fletcher's courtiers, and the 
apprentice who approved of Old Fortunatus was per- 
haps as good a guide to vital worth in literature as the 
gentleman of fashion who accepted the dedication of 
one of Chapman's comedies. A corrupt and shameless 
court and its hangers-on was henceforth to patronize 
the drama and to furnish it with both subjects for satire 
and ideals of conduct, while the increasing Puritanism 
was to widen the breach between the people and the 
stage. The moral decadence that resulted was, how- 
ever, by no means foreseen ; it was rather in desire for 
both moral and aesthetic refinement that the dramatists 
began to ridicule the taste of the vulgar and portray the 
manners of men of the world, to refuse the plaudits 
of the idle apprentices and seek those of the no less idle 
young gentlemen of the Inns of Court. 

The early drama again had been anything but crit- 
ical. Though Plautus and Seneca were its models, 
knowledge of the classical drama was not sufficiently 
general or thorough to afford effectual criticism ; while 
the demands of the audiences at the public theatres 
forced a complete adaptation of classical models and a 
neglect of classical precepts. Criticism was offered by 
outsiders with Hterary ideals like Sidney or by moral 
objecters hke Gosson, but the dramatists pursued their 
way unheedingly, meeting the Hmitations of a bare 
stage, the tastes of a motley audience, and the varied 
artistic impulses of the Elizabethan Renaissance by 
means of the freest experimentation. The early years 
were, therefore, the time of experiment, of the multi- 
plication and the confusion of types, and of an increas- 



xvi 31ntroliuction 

son was vigorously ridiculing it in the prologue of 
Every Man in His Humour. These two critical de- 
clarations were its valedictory, although Shakespeare 
himself, working with stories from English chronicles 
and employing many of the methods which he had 
used earlier, developed the chronicle-history into Mac- 
beth and Lear, and later joined with Fletcher in a 
revival of the old type in Henry VIII. Beaumont and 
Fletcher in their collaboration made no use of the 
matter of the chronicles or of the methods or spectacles 
of the chronicle play. 

In a similar way the revenge tragedy reached its 
culmination at the time when the critical were ready to 
scoff at it. The story of blood vengeance, directed by 
a ghost and performed with hesitation and bewilder- 
ment by a philosophically inchned protagonist, had 
been introduced and popularized by Kyd in the Spanish 
Tragedy^ but the dramatists themselves did not awake 
to the crudities of the type until many of them had 
used it and Shakespeare had transformed it into Hamlet. 
Then Ben Jonson was ready to ridicule the raging 
Hieronimo,^ to whose part he had previously, in his 
additions to Kyd's play, given a serious interpretation 
and magnificent poetry. Hieronimo and Hamlet, too, 
became the butts of good-natured fun from Beaumont 
and Fletcher as representatives of a class of plays that 
fed the taste of the vulgar. 

In comedy also they departed from the fashion of 

* See Inductions to Cynthia's Revels^ i6oi, and Bartholomein 
Fairy 1 63 1, acted 1614. See also the jokes on Hamlet in Eaw 
luard Hoe, 1605, 



3|ntroDuction xvii 

an earlier day. The formless combination of a dozen 
genres into something songful, witty, and entertaining, 
by no means answered the views of Jonson : 

But deeds and language such as men do use, 
And persons such as comedy would choose, 
When she would shew an image of the times, 
And sport with human follies, not with crimes. 

The mixture of monsters, mythologies, sentimental 
couples, marvellous escapes, and witty dialogues, such 
as had been furnished by plays like Friar Bacon and 
Friar Bungay^ the Old Wives Tale, or the Woman in 
the Moony was held contrary to law and order ; the 
comedy of Lyly, Peele, and Greene, which had made 
possible and conditioned the alluring romance of Arden 
and Illyria, was going out of fashion and giving place 
to the realistic and satirical comedies of Jonson and 
Middleton. It was this realistic comedy that Beaumont 
and Fletcher took as a point of departure for their sub- 
sequent innovations. 

Some of their earliest plays were experiments that 
still further attest their attitude. Beaumont's Woman 
Hater is a comedy in Jonson' s manner, and his Knight 
of the Burning Pestle y ^ written under the inspiration of 
Don Quixote, is a burlesque on contemporary plays 
of adventure. Fletcher's Faithful Shepherdess is an 
attempt to replace the abortive pastorals of earlier play- 
wrights by a genuine and elaborate pastoral tragi- 
comedy on the model of // Pastor Fido. These plays 
won the praise of the critical, but the inimitable grace 

^ For a discussion of these plays see the volume on Beaumont 
of the Belles Lettres Series. Professor R. M. Alden. 



xviii 3|ntroDuction 

and sweetness of the Faithful Shepherdess and the 
abounding drollery and verve of the Burning Pestle 
were alike impotent to avert the disapproval of a public 
all unused to such innovations. 

Perhaps the failure of these plays taught the young 
poets their lesson. At all events their other plays, 
though they are not less novel in character and likewise 
show an attachment to contemporary foreign literature, 
especially Spanish novels, are characterized by an inti- 
mate knowledge of stage-craft and a constant attention 
to theatrical effectiveness. While they afforded full 
scope for the authors' dramatic ingenuity and poetical 
imagination, they also succeeded in captivating the 
public. These successes resulted after further develop- 
ment in two distinct classes of plays, the comedies and 
the heroic romances, both of which proved of vast im- 
portance in the later history of the drama. 

Their comedy — of which the Scornful Lady is per- 
haps the best representative of their collaboration and 
the Wild Goose Chase of Fletcher's later development 
— has its resemblances and connections with preceding 
and contemporary plays, but it is a distinct departure 
from the humoristic drama, and it marks out a new 
line of development followed to the close of the Re- 
storation. It is a comedy of lively plot, dealing with 
love as a game and woman as the quarry, and present- 
ing the manners of the day, an overflowing wit, and 
no morals. Its full development belongs to Fletcher's 
later years. ^ 

* For a discussion of this comedy see the volume, Fletcher^ in 
the Belhi Lettres Series. 



^Introduction xix 

The romances, sometimes tragic and sometimes 
tragic-comic, likewise drew much from the contempo- 
rary drama, but they also mark important innovations. 
The years 1 601-1608, the period of Shakespeare's 
tragedies, were also, as has been noted, the time of the 
prevalence of the realistic drama and of the absence of 
sentimental or romantic comedy or tragi-comedy. 
The return to romance, heralded probably by Phil- 
aster y^ resulted in six plays resembling one another and 
forming the most distinctive product of Beaumont and 
Fletcher's collaboration. Other plays of the collabora- 
tion and many later plays by Fletcher might be grouped 
with these, but the six will serve to define the type with 
distinctness. The six plays. Four Plays in Oney Thierry 
and Theodorety Philastery the Maid^s Tragedy, Cu- 
pid* s Revenge, and A King and No Kingy resemble 
one another so closely in material, construction, char- 
acterization, and style that a single analysis will serve 
for all. 

Their plots, largely invented, are ingenious and com- 
plicated. They deal with royal or noble persons, with 
heroic actions, and are placed in foreign localities. The 
conquests, usurpations, and passions that ruin kingdoms 
are their themes, there are no battles or pageants, and 
the action is usually confined to the rooms of the palace 
or its immediate neighborhood. Usually contrasting a 
story of gross sensual passion with one of idyllic love, 
they introduce a great variety of incidents and aim at 
constant but varied excitement. Some of the situations 

' See The Influence of Beaumont and Fletcher on Shakspere, A. H. 
Thorndike, 1901. 



XX JInttoDuction 

that they use more than once, indicate their general 
character, — a girl, disguised as a boy, is stabbed by 
the man whom she loves ; a woman convicted of adul- 
tery brazenly defies her accusers ; the hero is saved 
from the tyrant by a timely insurrection of the turbu- 
lent populace. The tragic, idyllic, and sensational ma- 
terial is skilfully constructed into a number of theatrically 
telling situations, which lead by a series of surprises 
to very effective climaxes or catastrophes. All signs of 
the epic methods of construction found in the early 
drama have disappeared ; there is usually a chance 
until the last moment for either a happy or an unhappy 
ending, and in every case the denouement or catastro- 
phe is elaborately prepared for and complicated. The 
dramatis personae belong to impossible and romantic 
situations rather than to life, and are usually of certain 
types, — the sentimental or violent hero ; his faithful 
friend, a blunt, outspoken soldier ; the sentimental 
heroine, often a love-lorn maiden disguised as a page 
that she may serve the hero ; the evil woman defiant in 
her crimes ; and the poltroon, usually a comic person- 
age. With the addition of a king, some gentlemen and 
ladies of the court, and a few persons from the lower 
ranks, the cast is complete. The plays depend for in- 
terest not on their observation or revelation of human 
nature, or the development of character, but on the 
variety of situations, the clever construction that holds 
the interest through one suspense to another up to the 
unravelling at the very end, and on the naturalness, 
felicity, and vigor of the poetry. 

Such a summary is perhaps enough to suggest both 



^Introduction xxi 

the authors' indebtedness to preceding drama and their 
departures and contributions. Their indebtedness may 
be seen in some of their situations and types of charac- 
ter. The quarrel between Melantius and Amintor in 
the Maid's Tragedy must have been suggested by that 
of Brutus and Cassius in Julius Casar ; and in the 
beginning of PhilasteVy the hero has marked resem- 
blances to Hamlet. The sentimental heroines, who 
play such important parts in the romances, offer re- 
semblances to Shakespeare's, and to other representa- 
tives of this type from the day of Greene's Dorothea. 
The indebtedness of the six plays to preceding drama 
extends, indeed, beyond details. Like all tragedies 
from the time of Gorboduc and Cambysesy the tragedies 
of Beaumont and Fletcher dealt with kings and nobles, 
with marked reversals of fortune, with sensational 
crimes, and with numerous deaths. Like all preceding 
tragi-comedies, Philaster presents a happy conclusion 
and a general reconciliation after a succession of cir- 
cumstances of a tragic cast, intermingled with others to 
supply comic relief. Even in their departures from pre- 
cedent, Beaumont and Fletcher owe something to their 
predecessors. In breaking away from the reaHstic tend- 
encies of Jonson, they availed themselves of some of 
the traits of earlier romantic comedy. On the other 
hand, in their abandonment of certain types of drama, 
and in their avoidance of extreme violations of time and 
place, and in their consequently more coherent struc- 
ture, they profited from Jonson' s counsel. Their fond- 
ness for fixed types of character may also possibly be 
taken as, a sign of Jonson' s influence. 



xxii 31ntroi5uction 

The contribution of the heroic romances to the 
drama can be understood by a comparison of the char- 
acteristics just enumerated as defining the type with 
those of prevailing types of tragedy and tragi-comedy. 
Beaumont and Fletcher, as has been stated, forsook 
tragical chronicle-history with its inevitable accompani- 
ment of armies and battles, and also the Kydian type 
of revenge tragedy, variously developed by Marston, 
Shakespeare, Chapman, and Webster. They forsook 
also the Marlowe type with its central protagonist and 
his dominant passion, a type that conditioned the su- 
preme efforts of Shakespeare in Lear and Othello. 
Their tragedies differ from these classes of tragedies in 
their stories, situations, and characters. They differ 
almost as saliently in their methods of structure. Beau- 
mont and Fletcher did not, like most of their predeces- 
sors, turn to English or Roman history for their plots, 
nor did they adhere closely to any given narratives. 
They either, as apparently in Philaster, the Maid'' s 
Tragedy, and J King and No King, invented their 
plots entirely ; or, as in Thierry and Theodoret and 
Cupid'' s Revenge, they used old stories merely as a 
basis for their favorite characters and situations. Nar- 
rative and expository scenes, the accompaniments of 
the old chronicle or epic method of structure, disap- 
peared in their facile development of incidents into tell- 
ing situations, and in their clever entanglement of varied 
situations leading to surprising and theatrically effective 
catastrophes and denouements. Antony and Cleopatra, 
with its numerous narrative scenes and its cumbersome 
structure, illustrates the survival of the epic method, as 



31ntroDuction xxiii 

the Maid's Tragedy, with its rapidity of surprise, illus- 
trates the abandonment. 

In tragi-comedy Beaumont and Fletcher's departure 
from preceding plays is distinguished by the same in- 
novations in material and structure as in tragedy, and 
especially by the constant emphasis they place on the 
contrast between the tragic and the idyllic elements of 
their plots and by their use of surprising and compli- 
cated denouements. Measure for Measure y a tragi- 
comedy preceding Philaster by only a few years, illus- 
trates this departure. In Philaster y the idyllic element, 
neglected in the Mariana story of Measure for Measure, 
receives full treatment in constant contrast with the 
tragic ; and the denouement, which in Measure for 
Measure is only a long explanation of what every one 
knows, carries us rapidly from the tragic crisis to a 
happy ending through a series of telling situations. 
This achievement of theatrical effectiveness even at the 
cost of plausibility and consistency of character is per- 
haps the chief contribution of Beaumont and Fletcher 
to dramatic art and the most striking characteristic of 
both their comedies and their romances. 

Both classes of plays pleased their own age. By 
1 612, when Beaumont was twenty-six and Fletcher 
thirty-three, and their work together was finished, they 
were established among the poets of the highest rank 
in both critical and popular estimation. Evidence has 
elsewhere been advanced to show that their heroic 
plays had an influence on Shakespeare's change from 
tragedy to romance and on the material and structure 
of his latest plays, and that Philaster led somewhat di- 



xxiv 31ntroDuction 

rectly to Cymbeline.'^ At all events there can be no 
doubt that both comedies and romances marked out 
pathways much frequented by dramatists of the next 
thirty years. The paths led possibly to the ruin of the 
drama through a less formal versification, an emphasis 
on stage situation rather than interpretation of character, 
a heedlessness of moral taste, and a fondness for abnor- 
mally sensational themes ; but v^^hat is worthy as well 
as what is unworthy in the plays of Massinger, Shirley, 
and even the Restoration writers, owes much to Beau- 
mont and Fletcher. In 1647, when their plays were 
first collected, nearly all of the poets of the day joined 
in commendatory verses expressing admiration without 
bounds. They were ranked above Jonson and Shake- 
speare ; and, if we make all due allowance for adula- 
tion, there remains an unquestionable sincerity in the 
preference that most of the verses accord them. An 
archaicism in language and taste and an unevenness of 
style are charged to Shakespeare, and a heaviness and 
laboriousness to Jonson, while the modernity and nat- 
uralness of the younger men receive contrasted praise. 
The Restoration found their plays the favorites of the 
theatre, though the genius of Betterton discovered its 
best opportunities in the great parts of Shakespeare's 
tragedies ; and Dryden only summed up the critical 
opinion of the day in his masterly analyses that ranked 
them with Shakespeare and Jonson. By the beginning of 
the eighteenth century. Pseudo-classicism brought them 
into disrepute with the critical, and a chastened stage 

* The Influence of Beaumont and Fletcher on Shakspere, A. H, 
Thorndike, 1901. 



3|ntroJ)uction xxv 

saw their plays but seldom. During the two centuries 
since, they have never recovered their former popu- 
larity, yet they have never been long without favor 
from the reading public, as the various editions of their 
plays testify, and one may doubt whether their influ- 
ence on the stage has ever been quite lost. 

To-day, however, it is only by recalling their posi- 
tion and relations in the history of the drama in the 
seventeenth century that we are likely to form a gener- 
ous estimate of their genius and art or a just appreciation 
of the plays that best represent their combined endea- 
vors, the heroic romances. On reading them, one's first 
admiration is doubtless for the astonishing cleverness of 
the invention and construction. Since their day we have 
had romances and melodramas in multitudes, both in 
dramas and novels; and devices for exciting the reader's 
attention and holding him in a suspense to be ended by 
a surprise and a fresh suspense have been multiplied and 
elaborated indefinitely. Yet few works of fiction secure 
the reader's attention to the story with the power of 
the Maid'* s Tragedy. There are faults and conventions, 
to be sure, that would not be repeated to-day. The 
masque in it is an interlude, a piece of stage decoration 
and vocalism, peculiar to the period ; and the idyl of 
Aspatia, though it affords an opportunity for exquisite 
poetry, is again not altogether to our taste. The lady 
who accompanies Melantius to the masque is introduced 
with a good deal of flourish but to no purpose ; and 
the sudden conversion of Evadne from the merciless 
and shameless taunter of Amintor into his penitent 
lover and avenger, is a sheer impossibility. This last 



xxvi 3|ntrotiuction 

defect, however, illustrates both the method and the 
power of the authors. The difficulty is one not infre- 
quent in romance : a sensational plot requires an incred- 
ible revolution in the character of one of the actors. 
Evadne has to be converted, and her conversion must 
take place on the stage, and the agent cannot be the 
frantic Amintor but must be her brother, the blunt and 
unyielding Melantius. Given the situation — Melan- 
tius is to cow and convert Evadne — and how could 
it be managed with greater theatrical effectiveness or 
indeed with more vivid suggestion of reaHty than in the 
unrelenting tirades that Fletcher has written ? Our 
authors never hesitated to face impossibilities, least of all 
incredible changes in character ; they simply sat firm in 
the saddle and spurred their Pegasus for the jump. 

That some of the scenes act with unparalleled stage 
effect, we have the testimony of seventeenth century play- 
goers and of some few amateurs who have undertaken 
the play in recent years. The murder of the king would 
surely thrUl the spectator as few stage murders do. 
With what extraordinary vividness the whole scene 
comes before even a reader's eyes, — the smirking jests 
of the gentlemen-in-waiting, the half-lit room, the 
stealthy binding of the king, his slow awakening, his 
confused impotent interruptions of Evadne' s unflinch- 
ing recital, the upHfted knife, the groans for pity, the 
terrible stabs — 

Hell take me then ! This for my Lord Amintor ! 
This for my noble brother ! And this stroke 
For the most wronged of women ! 

She glides across the stage — the bloody knife uncon- 
cealed — and the smirking gentlemen enter again. 



3(lntroDuction xxvii 

The particular kingdom in the world of romance to 
which Beaumont and Fletcher introduce us is not a 
happy or a healthy one, but it does not lack excite- 
ment. It is no place for meditation over life's purposes, 
or for observation of human motives, and none is per- 
mitted. We are given seats in an ante-room of the 
palace, and at once the flow of events engrosses us, — 
conspiracies and imprisonments, insurrections and wars, 
adultery, seduction and murder, the talk of courtiers, 
gossip of women, banquets of the monarch, tempests 
of passion, and the laments of the love-lorn. A few 
hours, and kingdoms have trembled in the balance ; the 
heroine has been proved guilty and innocent again ; 
the murdered have come to life ; and the lover has been 
ecstatic, jealous, frantic, implacable, forgiving, and 
serene at last. Yet all is plausible enough in the brilliant 
flow of the verse ; or if part of it is incredible, it all 
passes on so rapidly that there is no time for doubt. 

This land of romance is a land of thrills, and thrills 
of many sorts. It is not altogether given up to violence; 
it has its idyls and sentiments. Near the palace is a 
forest, where now and then after a tumultuous hour 
we may retire to cool our harried senses, and where 
the lovers wander to forget their misfortunes and by its 
fountains weave their sighs into lyrical garlands. For 
even in this realm love is often innocent and young. 
Athwart the path of the murderous Evadne comes the 
melancholy and tender Aspatia ; and amid the corrup- 
tion of the court of Iberia there has grown the pure 
devotion of a Bellario. Beaumont and Fletcher did 
nothing by halves. If a man is a coward, he endures a 



xxviii ^InttoUuction 

thousand kicks ; if a woman sins, she multiplies adultery 
by murder ; if a woman is pure and gentle, she finds 
her sweetest pleasure in dying by the hand of the man 
she loves. On their idyls they lavished all the graces of 
their art. Their maidens suffer, serve, and weep, love, 
forgive, and die in lines that somehow preserve the grace 
of simplicity though they wear all thejewels of imagery 
and allusion that the authors possess. The portraits of 
these martyrs in love are far from life-like ; they belong 
to the idyllic forest of the court-romance ; they seem 
to be made in response to a challenge, — ** Paint me 
tenderness, sweetness, feminine perfection.'* Yet one 
will not read the plays without falling now and again 
under the charm of the lovely verses that tell of wo- 
man's love — often indeed with fine dramatic insight, 
with consummate fitness of language, and an imaginat- 
ive ideahty. Recall Bellario and Ordella facing death 
for their beloved. 

Bellario. Alas, my lord, my life is not a thing 
Worthy your noble thoughts ! 'tis not a life, 
'Tis but a piece of childhood thrown away.^ 

Ordella. 'Tis of all sleeps the sweetest; 
Children begin it to us, strong men seek it, 
And kings from height of all their painted glories 
Fall like spent exhalations to this centre : 
And those are fools that fear it, or imagine, 
A few unhandsome pleasures, or life's profits. 
Can recompense this place ; and mad that stay it 
Till age blow out their lights, or rotten humours 
Bring them dispersed to earth. ^ 

After all one rejoices that this Camelot has its Astolat 
and one regrets that the forests and fountains could not 

' Pbilaster, v, 2. * Thierry and Theodorety iv, I. 



3|ntroDuction xxix 

be kept sacred to true love and its lyrics. But the forest 
is close to the palace, and the shouting and tumult are 
carried from the one to the other. The various persons 
introduce one another in long descriptions, and after an 
introductory speech, the character remains fixed except 
as the shifting situations demand some unexpected 
change. There is no shading or subtlety in the char- 
acterization, Httle discrimination or individuality in the 
different representatives of their favorite types, who, 
however, are not at all wanting in originality. The miles 
gloriosusy for example, becomes in their hands a very 
different person frorh Falstaff or Bobadill ; he displays 
new resources of vanity and meets exposure with new 
feats of audacity ; he is perfectly distinct and ingen- 
iously comic, at least as a stage figure. So, too, the con- 
ventional type of the querulous old man becomes a 
source of fresh comedy in Cahanax, and the old cap- 
tain who leads the insurrection in Philaster is conceived 
with audacious humor and abundant spirit. And if 
our poets do not reveal the depths or complexities of 
human nature, they have the power of rising to a situ- 
ation and of expressing dramatic emotion. So their 
type of evil woman acquires tremendous force in the 
great scenes where Evadne plays her part, and their 
type of female saintliness becomes human and sincere 
in the white light of Ordella's devotion. 

Moreover their men and women talk like real per- 
sons. Dryden declared that they understood and imi- 
tated the conversation of gentlemen much better than 
Shakespeare, and in some respects this distinction is clear 
enough to-day. The men of the early tragedies, by 



XXX 31ntrotiuction 

Marlowe, Kyd, Marston, or Shakespeare, had spoken 
a language elevated and removed from ordinary dis- 
course. The bombastic vein finds repeated illustration 
in Shakespeare's early plays ; as in the opening lines 
of Henr;^ VI, — 

Hung be the heavens with black ! yield day to night ! etc. 

Or of Richard III, — 

Now is the winter of our discontent 

Made glorious summer by this sun of York — 

Nor did the effort for a declamatory and sententious 
tragic style fail to leave an impression on the works of 
his maturer genius. The very style of phrase that comes 
from Coriolanusy Lear, or Othello removes the speakers 
from the manners of the age and the habits of the audit- 
ors. Coriolanus begins, — 

Thanks. What 's the matter you disentious rogues, 
That, rubbing the poor itch of your opinion, 
Make yourselves scabs ? 

And Othello, — 

Let him do his spite : 
My services which I have done the signiory 
Shall out-tongue his complaints. 'Tis yet to know, — 
Which, when I know that boasting is an honour, 
I shall promulgate — 

Compare these speeches with the opening words of 
Melantius, and there can be no doubt that the phrases 
of Beaumont and Fletcher have the advantage in natur- 
alness. Or compare them with the opening boast of 
the most ranting of their kings, Arbaces — 

Thy sadness, brave Tigranes, takes away 
From my full victory : am I become 
Of so small fame, that any man should grieve 
When I o'ercome him } 



31ntrot)uction xxxi 

The vaunt is melodramatic, but the language is keyed 
to ordinary speech. 

Such talk as this makes the thrilling events and the 
exaggerated types of character seem plausible. The 
method of Shakespeare is reversed. We accept his 
land of romance, but it is far from the world of the day, 
and we have a sense of being conveyed thither. So 
the opening dialogue of Theseus and Hippolyta bears 
us one stage from reality toward fairy-land, and the 
opening lines of the Duke in Twelfth Night prepare 
us for an Illyria of sunshine, sentiment, and song. The 
poetry of Beaumont and Fletcher, on the contrary, 
does not carry us to romance, it brings romance to us. 
We are introduced into a court, which despite the for- 
eign names much resembles the court of James I; there 
is some gossip or compliment among a few gentlemen, 
and there is no elevation of language, the phrases are 
not heavy with premonitions of disaster ; in compar- 
ison with preceding Elizabethan tragedies, the diction 
is natural, clear, and modern. The spectators at Black- 
friars must have felt that they were viewing men and 
women like themselves, and thereby have been inclined 
to accept the marvels and horrors that followed. The 
trick has since become common in romance ; a clever 
young American invades a marvellous toy kingdom in 
central Europe, foils conspiracies, marries the princess, 
and accomplishes all sorts of upsets and escapes, — and 
we accept everything as we read because the persons 
appear and talk like acquaintances. Similarly a lack of 
archaicism or remoteness in speech goes far to make 
Beaumont and Fletcher* s romances plausible. 



xxxii 31ntroUuction 

Perhaps the happiest result of their introduction of 
a gentleman of 1610 into a romantic orgy is found in 
the character of Melantius. Theatre-goers had been 
long used to a central figure in tragedy, vehement, 
ranting, eloquent, and passionate, with a part full of 
violent action and sounding declamation ; as, Tambur- 
laine, Hieronimo, Richard III, Othello, or Lear. 
Melantius is of a different sort ; he does not tear a 
passion to tatters in sounding polysyllables ; or go in- 
sane ; or invoke earth and heaven and their mysteries 
in his midnight meditations. He talks w^ithout infla- 
tus, periphrasis, or aphorism, Hke a gentleman of the 
day ; yet how he talks ! His gift of blunt, soldierly 
conversation wins the keys of the castle from his bitter- 
est enemy, wrings the secret of his sister's dishonor 
from the wronged Amintor, and converts that sister 
from a brazen sinner into a penitent martyr. The pro- 
tagonist must still excel in talk, but his talk is different, 
and his character as well. The protagonist is no 
longer the creature of a mysterious fate, a self-revealing 
villain, or a victim of his own overpowering passion, 
but he is the beau ideal of the seventeenth century 
gentleman, clever, daring, indomitable, never at a loss, 
fastidious of honor, and above all a loyal and efficient 
friend. His loyalty appeals to our sympathies less 
deeply than Kent's and his avowals of friendship have 
the taint of exaggeration, but perhaps the well-worn 
stage type of the faithfiil friend has never been drawn 
with greater distinctness and enthusiasm. 

In the main, however, what existence the characters 
have outside of the situations in which they are placed. 



i. 



3lntrotiuction xxxiii 

what reality they retain in our memories, is due to the 
power of the verse to reflect clearly the emotions of the 
moment. There is, as has been said, an absence of 
that tragic inflatus made so effective in Marlowe, 
striven after by many imitators, and not wanting even 
in Shakespeare's masterpieces. There is a notable ab- 
sence of the merely sonorous, the turgid declamation, 
the mouthing of strange words ; that sort of style is 
ridiculed in Pharamond and Bessus. The style of the 
romances is marked, too, by an absence of overcrowd- 
ing thought, such as seems sometimes striven after in 
Marston or Chapman, and such as sometimes makes 
Shakespeare's lines a puzzle. Beaumont and Fletcher 
have no emotions too fleeting or too profound for utter- 
ance, no perplexing tangle of thought that defies ex- 
pression in decasyllabics ; and they had no desire to 
make their style sententious, weighty, philosophical. 
They had no doubt about what they wanted to say, 
and they said it clearly and rapidly. They had room 
for ornament and rhetorical device but none for eccen- 
tricity or obscurity. Dryden's remark that they per- 
fected the English language deserves consideration as the 
view of a century later, and can be appreciated to-day. 
After the tragedies of Jonson, Marston, Marlowe, 
Chapman, Webster, or Tourneur, one escapes with an 
elation of temper to the unpuzzling verse of the Maid'' s 
Tragedy and Philaster. One misses with a sense of 
joy the entanglement and doubt felt in the others, and 
often enough, too, in Shakespeare. 

Such traits of style as have been noticed are common 
to both men, and seem due — so far as they are con- 



xxxiv introduction 

scious at all — to an effort to make dramatic style cor- 
respond as nearly as possible to natural speech. This 
seems particularly true of Fletcher, who is the more 
revolutionary of the two in his innovations and the 
more persistent in his mannerisms. His structure is 
loose and conversational ; parentheses and colloquial- 
isms abound ; and his blank verse breaks down the 
barriers of the rigid pentameter and approaches the 
irregular rhythm of prose. Added syllables are numer- 
ous, and feminine endings usurp a large majority of the 
lines. Beaumont differs from Fletcher in his use of 
feminine endings and end-stopt lines, using far fewer 
of either than Fletcher, but he too imitates the broken 
and unpremeditated effect of ordinary speech and, Hke 
Fletcher, avoids unusual words and obscure construc- 
tions. In long speeches or in descriptive or lyrical 
passages, the structure naturally becomes more periodic, 
the rhythm more sustained, and the imagery more elab- 
orate ; and it is in such passages that Beaumont is 
often at his best. He is free, too, from the annoying 
faults of Fletcher, who is careless and monotonous in 
rhythm and structure. But both writers rise now and 
then to an intensely imaginative phrase or a beautifully 
wrought description, and the chief merit of their style 
is its constant power to suit itself to the ever-shifting 
action and emotion. The style of neither is suggestive of 
the intricacies of human feeling or the splendor of hu- 
man intellect, but the style of both, of Fletcher preemi- 
nently, reveals a fertility of imagination and an astonish- 
ing mobility of words. For what it attempts, it is sur- 
prisingly competent. In its lyric moments, it sings ; in 



3|ntroDuction xxxv 

the conversation of gentlemen, it is deft and rapid ; in 
the crises of passion, thrilHng ; in its idyls, melodious 
and sweet ; and it is always copious and lucid. 

It is these extraordinary merits of style that gave 
Beaumont and Fletcher their seventeenth century reputa- 
tion and have attracted readers in the generations since. 
Ethical objections to their plays drove them finally from 
the stage and continue to disturb readers to-day. 

One ethical charge, fathered by Coleridge and often 
repeated, calls for defence. Coleridge denounced them 
as servile, divino jure, royalists, and Professor Ward, 
though he instances the climax of the Maid'' s Tragedy 
to the contrary, declares that their sentiment of loyalty 
** means the abandonment of the aspiration for freedom 
as part of the sense of manhood ; — it is slavery drap- 
ing itself with chivalrous dignity in the cloak of * the 
Emperor's loyal general.' " A belief in divine right 
may naturally have been acquired and possibly retained 
by Beaumont and Fletcher as well as by most drama- 
tists of the day. They certainly make use of the sanct- 
ity of the king's person as a motive intelligible to their 
audiences and of importance to the persons in the 
drama ; but the ** servility " and ** slavery " are hardly 
apparent. Both Phi/aster and the Maid^s Tragedy y 
having plots of the authors' invention, deal vdth suc- 
cessful insurrections against royal power, and in the 
Maid^s Tragedy the leader of the insurrection induces 
his sister to murder the king. When we recall that in 
1 60 1 actors were punished for performing Richard II 
with the deposition of the king, and that the scene was 
omitted from the first two editions of the play, and 



xxxvi ^Introduction 

when we recall that an alteration of the Maid^ s 
Tragedy y omitting the murder of the king, was deemed 
necessary in the reign of Charles II, the attitude of 
Beaumont and Fletcher seems daring rather than ser- 
vile. Still farther, they are no great respecters of 
royal worth. Their monarchs are weak, corrupt, lust- 
ful ; and the most vigorous of them all, Arbaces, is 
not of royal birth and has no divine right. It has 
been argued that Shakespeare was a democrat because 
in opposition to current laudation of royalty he repre- 
sented kings with the weaknesses and crimes of ordi- 
nary men ; and if this argument be allowed weight, 
Beaumont and Fletcher were democrats and revolution- 
ists. Perhaps it is fairer to judge them as literary ardsts 
and not as political theorists. Their tragedies, as all 
Elizabethan tragedies, dealt with kings ; dealing with 
kings, they naturally made divine right play an important 
part ; they emphasized the sentiment of royal sanctity 
in order to make royal weakness more effective dramat- 
ically, — in order to make the assassination of a king 
more theatrically sensational. They wrote as drama- 
tists, described kings as both good and bad, but gener- 
ally bad, and if necessary they murdered them without 

pity. 

Other ethical objections to their plays, however, are 
less easily refuted. Beaumont and Fletcher depict love 
of many kinds and they present its abnormal or sensa- 
tional aspects with an outspokenness that is offensive to 
modern refinement and reveals an absence of moral 
taste on the part of the authors. In view of the char- 
acter of the court of James I and the contemporary ex- 



Jlntroliuction xxxvii 

posure of the career of Frances Howard, it must be 
admitted that the dramatists represented faithfully the 
loose manners and flagrant immorality of their age ; 
but the representation is without apology or satire and 
apparently without consciousness of its grossness. The 
atmosphere is never quite pure. A model of feminine 
purity may kiss and be kissed by the suitors she resists, 
and an ideal of innocence join unabashed in jests that 
to-day would be unpardonable. The themes of their 
plays are hardly more sensational than those of many 
recent novels, and their outspokenness might possibly 
be defended in comparison with modern reticence and 
suggestion, but it must be confessed that the whole 
tone of their work is less pure and healthy than of any 
dramatist preceding them, and that it opens the way 
to the lewdness of the Restoration. 

No one indeed will care to claim much credit for 
Beaumont and Fletcher as moral teachers. Unlike some 
of their contemporaries, they did not seek to discover 
and chastise the follies and excesses of their time ; and 
their conception of drama did not involve the study of 
human motives in the light of moral law. They dealt 
with themes that would please their audience and pat- 
rons and would offer a sufficient range of emotions for 
the exhibition of the authors' poetic powers. Of many 
modern romanticists and sentimentalists little more can 
be said ; Hke them, Beaumont and Fletcher were fond 
of love and lovers and sought to present many varieties, 
but their imaginations kept too frequent company with 
the gross and unhealthy. With no distinct moral pur- 
pose, without imaginations that touched spiritual heights 



xxxviii 3|ntroDuction 

or penetrated to the real significance of moral conflict, 
they entered unhesitatingly on the task of holding up 
a mirror to a society loose in manners and unprincipled 
in morals. They are not so much guilty of intentional 
immorality as impotent to produce moral effect. But 
something must be added on the other side. If their 
imaginations run loose in a corrupt society, they also 
seek at times the sweeter and the nobler aspects of life. 
What won for their ethics high laudation from con- 
temporary critics and may carry to us at least a partial 
justification for their lapses, were their rhetorical and 
dramatic adulation of innocence and purity, and, as it 
seems to us, their more sincere and not less enthusiastic 
exaltation of generosity, friendship, and devotion. The 
critic of their ethics should not forget Melantius and 
Ordella. 

If little enlightenment for the moral perceptions 
comes from reading their plays, there will surely be 
astonishment and admiration for the triumphant flow of 
verse, scene, and plot ; and by the historical student, 
a recognition of the freshness and importance of their 
art in its own day. In all the marvellous story of the 
Elizabethan drama few chapters captivate the fancy 
more delightfully than the one that tells of their pre- 
cocious success. At the time when Jonson and Shake- 
speare were at their best, these two striplings began. 
The critical, humorous, and imaginative Beaumont and 
the witty, irresponsible, and extraordinarily clever 
Fletcher somehow harmonized their difi^erences and 
united their powers. They wrote plays as plays, poems 
as poems, mindful of the courtly public, mindful of the 



3|ntroUuction xxxix 

critics, heedless of the moralists. They were neither 
psychologists nor preachers ; they did not harness philo- 
sophy to the drama ; they had none of that high serious- 
ness, which Matthew Arnold says is necessary to great 
poetry and which has certainly spoiled a great deal of 
poetry. Their view of life was that of the wits, gal- 
lants, and poets of the Mermaid tavern. To be generous, 
courtly, loyal in friendship, was enough of a creed ; their 
aspiration was artistic rather than ethical, — *< to put 
their whole wit in a jest,'* their whole genius in a play. 
Their genius to be sure has sometimes the appearance of 
sowing its wild oats ; but with the faults of youth, it 
has some of the virtues. If it has no power to widen 
the reader's horizon, to stimulate a finer and kindlier 
interest in life, or to purify the passions through a re- 
velation of their torments, it has certainly the power to 
excite, fascinate, thrill, and delight us. If their presen- 
tation of life lacks a sustained suggestiveness of reality, 
that is a fault of immaturity ; if their poetry responds 
to every challenge of their subject, that is the triumph 
of prodigal genius. 

Let us not emphasize unduly their spontaneity and 
cleverness at the expense of their artistic endeavor. 
They were artists coming late in a great creative period, 
aware of the greatness of what had preceded and also 
of its irregularities and excesses. They used the dra- 
matic form with copious invention and an unrivalled 
perception of dramatic possibilities in story or scene. 
They added new types of plays and they developed 
these with the zest and freedom of genius and the care 
of constructive artists. They subdued their ingenuity 



xl 3|ntroDuction 

to the requirements of the stage and they made their 
blank verse a pellucid mirror of the situations and emo- 
tions that they conceived. 

After all, the plays of their collaboration are the ex- 
periments of men in their tw^enties. Perhaps, if Beau- 
mont had lived, their brotherly cooperation w^ould have 
resulted in maturer and nobler achievement. As it is, 
their plays, with their excitement and surprises, their 
heroisms and their wit, disclose an imagination that can 
often pierce to the heart of a passion or reveal anew 
the beauty of language ; and they bring before us an 
age with manners and morals far removed from our 
own, an age brutal, passionate, unreserved, quick and 
indiscriminate in its emotions, but an age still cherishing 
its ideals of magnanimity and its dreams of idylhc love 
and courageous friendship. 



THE AUTHORSHIP OF THE MAID'S TRAGEDY 
AND PHILASTER 

The division of the plays of Beaumont and Fletcher 
between the two authors has been much discussed, and 
substantial agreement in regard to their respective shares 
has been reached through the application of verse-tests by 
Mr. Fleay, Mr. Boyle, and Mr. Oliphant. ^ The verse of 

* F. G. Fleay: Transactions N. S. S.^ 1874 j Chronicle of 
the English Drama, 1891. 

R. Boyle : Englische Studien, v, vii, viii, ix, x ; Trans. 
N. S. 5., 1886. 

E. F. Oliphant : Englische Studien, xiv, xv, xvi. 

See also Francis Beaumont, a critical study, G. C. Macaulay, 



JflntroUuction xli 

Fletcher has certain marked traits that render it easily 
recognizable, for instance, a large proportion of feminine 
endings, often 60 to 70%, and a small proportion of 
run-over lines, i o to 20 % j Beaumont's verse has a small 
proportion of feminine endings, 10 to 15 %, and a larger 
proportion (about 25 ^) of run-over lines than Fletcher's. 
The verse of Fletcher, in plays of which he was the sole 
author, exhibits these percentages with constancy j for 
Beaumont's verse we have a less certain criterion since 
we have no external evidence that any play was the re- 
sult of his unaided effort. The metrical tests, however, 
furnish in a large number of scenes a certain means for 
distinguishing the work of the two authors. When, for 
example, every 20 lines of a scene have a majority of 
double endings, the scene is Fletcher's ; when every 
20 lines have but two or three feminine endings, the 
scene is certainly not Fletcher's but Beaumont's. 

Some difficulties, however, counsel caution. The 
verse-tests are applicable when the collaboration is after 
the usual Elizabethan manner, each author taking certain 
scenes or divisions of the play and writing these with 
little or no intervention from his collaborator ; but if 
two writers worked in more intimate cooperation on a 
scene, verse-tests might fail to indicate their shares. 
Again, many passages evidently written as verse are 
printed as prose in the early editions, and the division 
into verse is the work of modern editors ; and other pass- 
ages that are still printed as prose seem likely to have 
been written as verse. Prose passages and songs offer no 

1883, London, and the article on Fletcher by A. H. Bullen in 
the Diet. Nat. Biog. 

For detailed treatment of the verse-tests for Beaumont and 
Fletcher, see the volumes of the Belles Lettres Series dealing with 
each dramatist. 



xlii 31ntroliuction 

opportunity for verse-tests ; and although prose is usually 
assigned to Beaumont, such assignment rests mainly on 
the fact that there is almost no prose in plays by Fletcher 
alone. In the case of the two plays in this book, there 
are some further considerations. There are few places 
where the percentage of double endings runs as high as in 
Fletcher's later or even in his other early plays, as, for 
example, the last two of the Four Plays in One. On the 
other hand, in the scenes usually assigned to Beaumont the 
percentage of feminine endings occasionally exceeds his 
average. There is always the possibility that Fletcher 
discarded for a time his mannerisms, as he did in the 
Faithful Shepherdess^ which differs entirely in versification 
from the rest of his plays j and one may suspect him of 
attuning himself more closely to Beaumont in these two 
plays than elsewhere. But in view of all these considera- 
tions, the fact that the verse-tests reveal decisive and con- 
sistent differences goes far to establish their reliability. 

In the case of the Maid's Tragedy^ critics are practically 
agreed, and a careful application of verse-tests by the 
present editor suggests little amendment. To Fletcher 
may be assigned : ii, 2 ; iv, i ; v, i, 2 (/. e. i, 2, 3, 
as printed in other editions). The close of v, i, after the 
exit of Evadne, is given by Fleay and Oliphant to Beau- 
mont, and the metrical characteristics are certainly not 
Fletcher's. Act i, scene 2, contains some prose and the 
masque, and cannot be assigned by verse-tests. The re- 
mainder of the play — i, i; ii, 1; iii, i, 2; iv, 2; v, 3 
(4, in other editions) — is given by all critics to Beau- 
mont, and contains no trace of Fletcher, except possibly 
in i, I. 

Philaster offers a more difficult problem. About one 
fourth of the play is in prose, the assignment of which is 
precarious y and several of the verse-scenes exhibit some 



31ntrot>uction xliii 

of the qualities of both poets and a percentage of double 
endings too small for Fletcher and too large for Beau- 
mont. Their contributions cannot always be distinctly 
separated. Evidence of Fletcher's hand seems apparent to 
the present editor in — i, ib (after entry of king) ; ii, 2 
(mostly prose) ; ii, 4b (from reentry of Dion) ; iii, 2 
(traces, passim) ; v, 3, 4. This assignment agrees with 
that made by Oliphant ; Fleay gives Fletcher all of act i, 
scene i, andv, 3, 45 Boyle, only v, 3, 4. The following 
scenes are wholly or largely prose, and their assignment 
to Beaumont by the critics rests on no very conclusive 
evidence — i, la (to entry of king) 5 iv, i; v, i. The 
remainder of the play is assigned to Beaumont by all 
critics — i, 2; ii, i, 3, 4a (to reentry of Dion) ; iii, i, 2 
(in part) 5 iv, 2, 3> 4 5 v, 2, 5. 

The separation of the verse of the two authors by no 
means determines the exact share of each in the total cre- 
ative work. Who invented ? who suggested ? and who 
corrected ? are questions that even they themselves 
might have found it difficult to answer. In Philaster, one 
of the earliest of the joint plays, there are indications 
that the two poets worked on the same scenes in a way 
that baffles exact analysis to-day j but here Fletcher's 
share seems subsidiary and supplementary. He wrote at 
least a part of the first scene, contributed parts of the 
Megra-Pharamond story, and the lively account of the 
insurrection, but had little to do with the development 
of the main action or with the most important situations ; 
none of the scenes indeed seem absolutely free from 
Beaumont's hand. In the Maid ""s Tragedy, the collabor- 
ation was more distinct ; and there, though Beaumont's 
share is much the larger, Fletcher's scenes are among the 
most important in the play and present Aspatia, Evadne, 
and Philaster in some of their most characteristic mo- 



xliv 31ntroliuction 

ments. In these two plays and in the other heroic ro- 
mances Beaumont's share seems predominant, and from 
these plays, together with the Knight of the Burning 
Pestle, we draw most of our inferences in respect to the 
qualities of his genius. The two friends, however, har- 
monized their sentiments, modes of thought, and inter- 
pretations of character better than their methods of versi- 
fication J and any attempts to restrict a particular mental 
attitude to the one is likely to be frustrated by its appear- 
ance in verse unmistakably by the other. Each doubtless 
deserves, what each has long received, a share in the 
credit for the plot, situations, characters, style, and senti- 
ments oi Philaster and the Maid's Tragedy. 



TEXT 

The first quarto, 1 619, presents an abbreviated, mangled, and evi- 
dently unauthorized text. The second quarto, 1622, "Newly pe- 
rused, augmented and inlarged," is much less corrupt, but contains 
some verbal alterations that are not improvements on Qi. The 
third quarto, 1630, presents for the first time the names of the au- 
thors and the " Censure " of the stationer, Richard Hawkins. A 
few of its corrections have been approved by modern editors. Four 
other quartos, in the main agreeing with ^3, were published before 
1679, when the play was included in the Second Folio, reprinted 
apparently from Q6. No edition, it will be noted, was printed during 
Beaumont's lifetime : none for some ten years after the play was 
written, circa 1 609 5 and apparently none received any direct re- 
vision from either author, though Qz undoubtedly is the best au- 
thority. Under these circumstances an edition of the play must be 
eclectic, based on the first three quartos, and availing itself of correc- 
tions in the later quartos and folio and in the editions of modern ed- 
itors, Theobald (Th), Weber (W), Dyce (D), and Daniel in the 
recent variorum edition under the general supervision of Mr. A. H. 
Bullen (B). 

The present edition follows Q2, but frequently readings from Qi 
have been adopted, and all variants that have any claim to recog- 
nition have been given in the notes, especially those of Qi and Q3. 
The variants of Leonhardt and of Daniel have been compared with 
the original editions, and a number of minor corrections have been 
made in their records of the quartos. The variants of the later 
quartos, the folio, and the modern editors are recorded only when 
of importance to the text ; in the case of accepted emendations, 
usually only the name of the editor responsible has been given, but 
the variants of Dyce and Daniel from the present text are specific- 
ally noted. .The arrangement of the verse lines is based on Dyce. 
The quartos are here very uncertain guides, but important devia- 
tions from (^2, D, or B, are recorded in the notes. In accord with 
the practice of the Belles-Lettres Series^ the spelling of (^2 has been 



xlvi WtXt 

kept, all additions to its text or stage-directions are enclosed in 
brackets, and all variations from the letter of that edition except 
obvious misprints are noted. The punctuation and capitalization have 
been modernized, but the old punctuation has been retained when 
possible, and the old abbreviations, involving apostrophes, have 
been preserved. The past participles in -ed, -'d, -t, have also been 
retained as in Q2, even when a different pronunciation of the final 
syllable is rendered necessary by the versification. Any stage-direc- 
tions which seem in the early editions to have been placed merely 
where the length of the lines permit, have been placed where the 
indicated actions should occur, with a note among the variants on 
the original position. Aside^ often printed at the end of a line or 
speech, is uniformly placed before its line or speech. Explanation of 
the abbreviations used in referring to the various editions will be found 
in the Bibliography. 



The Maids Tragedie. 

AS IT HATH B BENE 

diuers times Aded at the 'Black-Friers by 
the Rings Maleftles Seruants. 

Newly perufed, augmentecl, and inlarged, This fecond ImprefTion. 



AMINTORT^ 




LONDON, 

Printed for Francis Conjlahle^ and are 

tobcfoldat the white Lion in 
FauIs Church-yard. i6zi. 



SOURCES 

There is nothing to add to Dyce's statement in his collective 
edition that ** the source from which the incidents of this drama 
were derived, has not been discovered." He noted a resemblance 
between Aspatia's duel with Amintor and the combat between 
Parthenia and Amphialus in the third book of Sidney's Arcadia. 
The quarrel of Melantius and Amintor in Act in owes something 
to that of Brutus and Cassius in yulius Casar.- The character and 
story of Aspatia are to some extent pairalieled by those of Bellario in 
P /li /aster znd Urania in Cupid'' s-Revenge ;^ a.nd other parallelisms in . 
characters and situations can be traced with the other romances of 
Beaumont and Fletcher. 



SPEAKERS. 



King. 

Lisippus, brother to the King. 
Amintor, [a noble Gentleman.] 
EvADNE, wife to Amintor. 

mp^rsf !■>">"""' •■>^— 

ASPATIA, troth-plight wife to Amintor. 

Callianax, an old humorous Lord, and father to ASFATIA. 

Cleon, ) „ ,, 

Strato,}^^"^^^'"^"- 

DiAGORAS, a servant. 

OLiMpfAs ^' } Waiting Gentlewomen to AsPATiA. 

DuLA, a Lady. 

Night, 1 

CiNTHiA, I Maskers 
Neptune, f "^^sicers. 

EOLUS, J 

[Sea Gods, Winds, 

Lords, Gentlemen, Servants, &c. 

SCENE, Rhodes.] 

[THE STATIONERS CENSURE. 

Good wine requires no bush, they say. 
And 7, no prologue such a play : 
The makers therefore did forebeare 
To have that grace prefixed here. 
But cease here. Censure, least the buyer 
Hold thee in this a vaine supplyer. 
My office is to set it forth. 
Where fame applauds its reale worth.] 

a noble Gentleman. Added in Q.%, 
Sea Gods . . . Rhodes. Supplied by modern editors. 
Censure. The lines, not in Qi and Q2, are in Q3-Q6 printed after the 
Dramatis Personae. 



Ci^e ^a^r&esi Cragear 



Actus I. Scaen I. 

\_J?i Apartment in the Palace, "] 

Enter Cleon^ Strata y Lisippusy Diphilus. 

Clean. The rest are making ready, sir. 
Lysippus. So let them ; theres time enough. 
Diphilus. You are the brother to the King, 
my lord ; 
Weele take your word. 

Lys. Strato, thou hast some skill in poetrie; 
What think'st [thou] of the mask ? will it be 
well ? 
Strato, As well as masks can be. 
Lys. As masks can be ! 

Stra. Yes ; they must commend their king, 
& speake in praise 
Of the assembly, blesse the bride and bride- 

groome 
In person of some god : they'r tied to rules 
Of flatterie. 

Cle. See, good my lord, who is returned ! 

2 Lysippus, Ql. Q2-F, Stra. 

6 tbouy gi. tbe mask. Qq, F, a mask, corrected by Seward. 



4 W\)t £pa^De0 tETrageD^ [act i. 

Enter Melantius. 
Lys. Noble Melantius, the land by me 
Welcomes thy vertues home to Rhodes; 
Thou that with blood abroad buyest our peace ! 
The breath of kings is like the breath of gods ; 
My brother wisht thee here, and thou art here ; 
He will be too kind, and wearie thee 
With often welcomes ; but the time doth give 

thee 
A welcome above his or all the worlds. 

Melantius. My lord, my thankes ; but these 
scratcht limbes of mine 
Have spoke my love and truth unto my friends 
More then my tongue ere could. My mind's 

the same 
It ever was to you ; where I finde worth, 
I love the keeper till he let it goe. 
And then I follow it. 

Diph. Haile, worthy brother; 

He that rejoyces not at your returne 
In safety is mine enemie forever. 

Mel. I thanke thee, Diphilus. But thou art 
faultie ; 
I sent for thee to exercise thine armes 

13/0 Rhodes. Qi and B omit. 

i-j be too kind. Ql, be kind. B, be too-too kind. 

23 It. The scene from the beginning through this word is 
printed as prose in gq and F. It continues as prose through 1. 24 
in 0^6 and F. 



Scene I.] ^^t ^U^htS ^Xn^tD^ 5 

With me at Patria ; thou cam'st not, Diphilus j 30 
Twas ill. 

Diph. My noble brother, my excuse 
Is my king's strict command, which you, my 

lord. 
Can witnesse with me. 

Lys. Tis [most] true, Melantius ; 

He might not come till the solemnities 
Of this great match were past. 

Diph. Have you heard of it ? 35 

Afel. Yes, and have given cause to those 
that here 
Envy my deeds abroad to call me gamesome. 
I have no other businesse heere at Rhodes. 
Lys. We have a maske to-night, and you 
must tread 
A souldiers measure. 4° 

Mel. These soft and silken wars are not for 
me ; 
The musicke must be shrill and all confus'd 
That stirres my bloud ; and then I dance with 

armes. 
But is Amintor wed ? 

Diph. This day. 

32 strict. Qi, straight. 

33 most, Qi. Omitted in Qz et al. 

34 solemnities, Ql. Solemnitie in other Qq and F. 

36 Yes , . . here. So in Qi. ^2, Yes I have given cause to 
those that. 



6 tET^ie £pa^ije0 tETrageD^ [act i. 

Mel. All joyes upon him ! for he is my 
friend. 45 

Wonder not that I call a man so young my 

friend : 
His worth is great ; valiant he is and temperate ; 
And one that never thinkes his life his owne, 
If his friend neede it. When he was a boy, 
As oft as I return'd (as, without boast, 50 

I brought home conquest), he would gaze upon 

me 
And view me round, to finde in what one limbe 
The vertue lay to doe these things he heard ; 
Then would he wish to see my sword, and feele 
The quicknesse of the edge, and in his hand 55 
Weigh it : he oft would make me smile at this. 
His youth did promise much, and his ripe yeares 
Will see it all performd. 

Enter Aspatia, passing by. 

Haile, maid and wife ! 
Thou faire Aspatia, may the holy knot. 
That thou hast tied to-day, last till the hand 60 
Of age undoe't ! mayst thou bring a race 
Unto Amintor, that may fill the world 
Successively with souldiers ! 

Aspatia. My hard fortunes 

Deserve not scorne, for I was never proud 
When they were good. Exit Aspatia. 

Enter . . . by. Qi, Enter Aspatia passing with attendance. 



Scene I] ^1)0 ^3^1500 tETrageu^ 7 

il/^/. Howes this ? 

Lys. You are mistaken, sir ; 65 

She is not married. 

Mel. You said Amintor was. 

Diph. Tis true ; but — 

Mel. Pardon me ; I did receive 

Letters at Patria from my Amintor, 
That he should marrie her. 

Diph. And so it stood 

In all opinion long ; but your arrivall 70 

Made me imagine you had heard the change. 

Mel. Who hath he taken then ? 

Lys. A ladie, sir, 

That beares the light above her, and strikes dead 
With flashes of her eye ; the faire Evadne, 
Your vertuous sister. 

Mel. Peace of heart betwixt them ! 75 

But this is strange. 

Lys. The King, my brother, did it 

To honor you, and these solemnities 
Are at his charge. 

Mel. Tis royall like himselfe. But I am sad. 
My speech beares so unfortunate a sound 80 

To beautifull Aspatia. There is rage 
Hid in her fathers breast, Calianax, 
Bent long against me ; and he should not thinke, 

65 «>, Ql- S^, for. 

73 above. Qi,aboue} Q2, about. See note. 



8 ^\)t £pa^l>e0 tCrageO^ [act i. 

If I could call it backe, that I would take 

So base revenges as to scorne the state 85 

Of his neglected daughter. Holds he still 

His greatnesse with the King? 

Lys. Yes. But this lady 

Walkes discontented, with her watrie eies 
Bent on the earth. The unfrequented woods 
Are her delight ; where, when she sees a bancke 90 
Stucke full of flowers, shee with a sigh will tell 
Her servants what a prittie place it were 
To burie lovers in ; and make her maids 
Pluck 'em and strow her over like a corse. 
She carries with her an infectious griefe 95 

That strikes all her beholders. She will sing 
The mournfulst things that ever eare hath heard, 
And sigh, and sing againe ; and when the rest 
Of our young ladyes, in their wanton bloud, 
Tell mirthfull tales in course, that fill the roomeioo 
With laughter, she will with so sad a looke 
Bring forth the story of the silent death 
Of some forsaken virgin, which her griefe 
Will put in such a phrase that, ere she end, 
Shee'le send them weeping one by one away. 105 

Afel. She has a brother under my command, 
Like her, a face as womanish as hers. 
But with a spirit that hath much outgrowne 
The number of his yeares. 

84 i/" / could. Qi, B, Could I but. 90 ivAere, Qi. Q2-F, and. 



Scene I] tE^f^t ^dL^titfS ^U%tl>^ 9 

Enfer Amintor. 

Cle. My lord the bridegroome 1 

Mel. I might runne fiercely, not more 

hastily, "o 

Upon my foe. I love thee well, Amintor ; 
My mouth is much too narrow for my heart ; 
I joy to looke upon those eies of thine ; 
Thou art my friend, but my disordered speech 
Cuts off my love. 

Amintor. Thou art Melantius } "5 

All love is spoke in that. A sacrifice. 
To thanke the gods Melantius is returned 
In safety ! Victory sits on his sword 
As she was wont. May she build there and 

dwell ; 
And may thy armour be, as it hath beene, 120 

Only thy valor and thine innocence ! 
What endlesse treasures would our enemies give 
That I might hold thee still thus ! 

Mel. I am poore 

In words ; but credit me, young man, thy mother 
Could [do] no more but weep for joy to see thee 125 
After long absence. All the wounds I have, 
Fetcht not so much away, nor all the cries 
Of widowed mothers. But this is peace. 
And that was warre. 

109 My lord the. Th, D, comma after lord, no fiercely. 
Coleridge, more fiercely. 123-125 That . . . thee. So arranged 
by Th. Qq and F end lines with thus . . . man . . . thee. 

125 do. Only in Qi. 126 have. B, gave. 



lo ®l)e ^a^Df0 tETragrD^ [act i. 

Amin, Pardon, thou holy god 

Of mariage-bed, and frowne not; I am forced, 13° 
In answer of such noble teares as those, 
To weepe upon my wedding-day ! 

Mel. I feare thou art growne too fickle, for I 
heare 
A lady mournes for thee, men say, to death. 
Forsaken of thee, on what termes I know not. 135 
Amin. She had my promise ; but the King 
forbade it. 
And made me make this worthy change, thy 

sister. 
Accompanied with graces [far] above her. 
With whom I long to lose my lusty youth 
And grow old in her armes. 

Mel. Be prosperous ! 140 

Enter Messenger. 
Messenger. My lord, the maskers rage for you. 
Lys. We are gone. — 

Cleon, Strato, Diphilus ! 

Amin. Weele all attend you. — 

\Exeunt Lysippus, Cleony Strato, Diphilus, 
and Messenger. '\ 

We shall trouble you 
With our solemnities. 

131 tho%e. g I, these, \ 11 fickle. Qi, cruell ; Q3-F, sicke. 
138 far abo-ve, Th. Qi, Q2, about ; Q3, above. 
141 Messenger. Qi, Amint. ^2 to F, Serv. 
Exeunt . . . Messenger. This stage-direction is found only in 
Ql, which omits and Messenger. 



Scene II. ] ^})t £^3^11^0 ^VdiQtl>^ 1 1 

Me/. Not so, Amintor ; 

But if you laugh at my rude cariage 145 

In peace, Til do as much for you in warre. 
When you come thither. But I have a mistresse 
To bring to your delights ; rough though I am, 
I have a mistresse, and she has a heart. 
She saies; but, trust me, it is stone, no better; 150 
There is no place that I can challenge in't. 
But you stand still, and here my way lies. 

Exeunt. 

[Scene II. J Hall in the Palace, with a Gallery 
full of Spectators. ] 

Enter Calianax with Diagoras. 

Calianax. Diagoras, looke to the doores bet- 
ter, for shame ! you let in all the world, and 
anone the King will raile at me. Why, very 
well said. By Jove, the King will have the 
show i' th' court. 5 

Diagoras. Why doe you sweare so, my lord ? 
you know heele have it heere. 

Cal. By this light, if he be wise, he will not. 

Diag. And if he will not be wise, you are 
forsworne. 10 

Cal. One may weare his heart out with 

151 /«'/, Q3 to F. Qi, challenge gentlemen. Q2 omits. 
Exeunt. ^2, Exit. 5 f th\ Q2 misprints i' th the. 

1 1 may iveare his heart out, so F ; Q2, may sweare out his heart j 
Qi, must sweat out his heart. 



12 tET^e ^a^Defi! tETrageU^ [act i. 

swearing, and get thankes on no side. He be 
gone, look too't who will. 

Diag. My lord, I shall never keepe them out. 
Pray stay ; your lookes will terrifie them. i^ 

Cal. My looks terrifie them, you coxcombly 
asse, you ! He be judge [d] by all the company 
whether thou hast not a worse face then I. 

Diag. I meane because they know you and 
your office. ^o 

Cal. Office ! I would I could put it off! I am 
sure I sweat quite through my office. I might 
have made roome at my daughters wedding ; — 
they ha nere kild her amongst them, and now 
I must doe service for him that hath forsaken 25 
her. Serve that will ! Exit Calianax. 

Diag. Hee's so humorous since his daughter 
was forsaken! (^Knocke within.') Harke, harke ! 
there, there ! so, so ! codes, codes ! What now. 

Melantius (within). Open the doore. 30 

Diag. Who's there ? 

Mel. [within]. Melantius. 

Diag. I hope your lordship brings no troope 
with you ; for, if you doe, I must returne them. 

\_Opens the door.] 
Enter Melantius and a Lady. 

Mel. None but this lady, sir. 35 

Diag. The ladies are all plac'd above, save 

17 judged^ Q4 et al. (^2, Q3, judge. Ql, iudgde. 28 Knocke 
ivithin^ 30 ivithin. gq, F, print after 1. 29, ivithin Knocke ivithin. 



scKNE II.] ar^e ^a^tiefif ®ragel>^ 13 

those that come in the Kings troope ; the best 
of Rhodes sit there, and theres roome. 

Mel. I thanke you, sir. — When I have scene 
you placed, madam, I must attend the King; 40 
but the maske done. He waite on you againe. 

Diag, [opening another door]. Stand backe 
there ! Roome for mylordMelantius ! [Exit Me- 
lantius^ Lady^ other doore.~\ — Pray beare backe — 
this is no place for such youth and their truls — let 45 
the dores shut agen . — No ! — do your heads itch ? 
He scratch them for you. [Shuts the door.~\ — 
So, now thrust and hang. [Knocking withinA — 
Againe ! Who is't now ? — I cannot blame my 
Lord Calianax for going away. Would he were 50 
here ! he would run raging amongst them and 
breake a dozen wiser heads than his own in the 
twinckling of an eie. — Whats the newes now ? 

[Foice'] within. I pray you, can you helpe 
mee to the speech of the master-cooke ? 55 

Diag. If I open the dore. He cooke some of 
your calves-heads. Peace rogues! [Knocking with- 
in.'] — Againe! who is't ? 

Mel. {within). Melantius. 

Enter Calianax^ to Melantius. 

Cal. Let him not in. 60 

43 Exit . . . doore. Only in Qi, which places the exit after 1. 41. 
46 No,(^i. Qz et al., I. 52 iviser. Qi oniits. 
59 loitbin. After Melantius in J^q. 



14 ®^e £pa^ije0 aTrageu^ [act i. 

Diag. O, my lord, a must. [^Opening the door.~^ 
— Make roome there for my lord. — Is your 
lady placet ? 

\_Enter Melantius,'\ 

Mel. Yes, sir. 
I thanke you. — My Lord Calianax, well met. 65 
Your causelesse hate to me I hope is buried. 

Cal. Yes, I doe service for your sister here. 
That brings mine owne poore child to timelesse 

death ; 
She loves your friend Amintor ; such another 
False-hearted lord as you. 

Mel. You doe me wrong, 70 

A most unmanly one, and I am slow 
In taking vengeance ; but be well advis'd. 

Cal. It may be so. Who plac'd the lady there 
So neere the presence of the King ? 

Mel. I did. 

Cal. My lord, she must not sit there. 

Mel. Why? 75 

Cal. The place is kept for women of more 
worth. 

Mel. More worth than she ! It misbecomes 
your age 
And place to be thus womanish : forbeare ! 
What you have spoke, I am content to thinke 
The palsey shooke your tongue to. 

Enter Melantius. Only in Ql. 



Scene II. ] ^j^t ^3^1)00 tE^U^tH^ 1$ 

Cal. Why, tis well, 80 

If I stand here to place mens wenches. 

Mel. I 

Shall [quite] forget this place, thy age, my 

safety, 
And, through all, cut that poor sickly weeke 
Thou hast to live away from thee. 

Cal. Nay, I know you can fight for your 

whore. 85 

Mel. Bate [me] the King, and, be hee flesh 
and blood, 
A lies that says it ! Thy mother at fifteene 
Was blacke and sinfull to her. 

Diag. Good my lord — 

Mel. Some god pluck threescore yeeres from 
that fond man. 
That I may kill him, and not staine mine honor ! 90 
It is the curse of souldiers, that in peace 
They shall be braved by such ignoble men. 
As, if the land were troubled, would with teares 
And knees beg succor from 'em. Would that 

blood. 
That sea of blood, that I have lost in fight, 95 

Were running in thy veines, that it might make 

thee 
Apt to say lesse, or able to maintaine, 

82 quite. Only in Qi. 83 through. Theobald, thorough. 

86 me. Only in (^i. 94 that, (^i, D, B, the. 



1 6 tE^t ^a^Drs; tETrageu^ [act i. 

Should'st thou say more ! This Rhodes, I see, is 

nought 
But a place priviledg'd to do men wrong. 

Cal. I, you may say your pleasure. loo 

Efiter Amt?itor. 
Amintor. What vilde injurie 
Has sturd my worthy friend, who is as slow 
To fight with words as he is quick of hand ? 
Mel. That heape of age, which I should rev- 
erence 
If it were temperate, but testie yeeres 105 

Are most contemptible. 

Amin, Good sir, forbeare. 

Cal. There is just such another as yourselfe. 
Amin. He will wrong you, or me, or any 
man, 
And talke as if he had no life to lose. 
Since this our match. The King is comming in ; no 
I would not for more wealth than I enjoy 
He should perceive you raging ; he did heare 
You were at difference now, which hastned him. 

Hoboyes play within. 
Cal. Make roome there ! 
Enter King, Evadne, Aspatiay Lords and Ladies. 
King. Melantius, thou art welcome, and my 
love • 115 

Is with thee still ; but this is not a place 
To brabble in. — Calianax, joyne hands. 

103 hand. Qi, B, hands. 



Scene ii] ^\)t ^a^Uts ®rageu^ 17 

Cal. Hee shall not have mine hand. 

King. This is no time 

To force you too't. I do love you both : — 
Calianax, you looke well to your office ; — 120 

And you, Melantius, are welcome home. — 
Begin the maske. 

AleL Sister, I joy to see you and your choyse. 
You lookt with my eies when you tooke that 

man ; 
Be happy in him ! Recorders. 

Evadne. O, my deerest brother, 125 

Your presence is more joyful then this day 
Can be unto me. 

THE MASKE 

Night rises in mists. 
Night. Our reigne is come j for in the raging sea 
The sun is drownd, and with him fell the Day. 
Bright Cinthia, heare my voice! I am the Night, 130 

For whom thou bearst about thy borrowed light. 
Appeare ! no longer thy pale visage shrowde, 
But strike thy silver homes quite through a cloud. 
And send a beame upon my swarthie face, 
By which I may discover all the place 1 3 5 

And persons, and how many longing eies 
Are come to waite on our solemnities. 

Enter Cynthia. 
How dull and blacke am I ! I could not finde 
This beautie without thee, I am so blinde. 
128 raging. Q^i^ quenching. 



1 8 (ETl^e ^a^De0 tD^tageDi? [act i. 

Methinkes they shew like to those easteme streakes, 140 

That wame us hence before the morning breakes. 
Back, my pale servant! for these eies know how 
To shoote farre more and quicker rayes then thou. 

Cynthia. Great queen, they be a troope for whom alone 
One of my clearest moones I have put on ; 145 

A troope that lookes as if thyselfe and I 
Had pluckt our reines in and our whips laid by. 
To gaze upon these mortals, that appeare 
Brighter than we. 

Night. Then let us keepe 'em here, 

And never more our chariots drive away, 150 

But hold our places and outshine the Day. 

Cynth. Great queene of shaddowes, you are pleasde to 
speake 
Of more then may be done ; we may not breake 
The gods decrees 5 but, when our time is come. 
Must drive away, and give the Day our roome. 155 

Yet, whilst our raigne lasts, let us stretch our power 
To give our servants one contented houre. 
With such unwonted solemne grace and state. 
As may for ever after force them hate 

Our brothers glorious beames, and wish the Night, 160 

Crown' d with a thousand starres and our cold light j 
For almost all the world their service bend 
To Phoebus, and in vaine my light I lend, 
Gaz'd on unto my setting from my rise 
Almost of none but of unquiet eyes. 165 

Night. Then shine at full, faire queene, & by thy 
power 
Produce a birth, to crowne this happy houre, 

151 hold. So F and Qq, except Q2, which misprints, keepe. 
156 ivhiht. Q2, whir St. Qi omits lines 156-165. 
160 iv'iih^ SlZ-^- S^> with. 



Scene II] Xl^^t ^3^1)00 tE^tageD^ 1 9 

Of nymphes and shephcards ; let their songs discover, 

Easie and sweete, who is a happy lover ; 

Or, if thou woo't, then call thine owne Endimion 170 

From the sweete flowrie bed he lies upon. 

On Latmus"" top, thy pale beames drawne away. 

And of his long night let him make a day. 

Cynth. Thou dreamst, darke queene ; that faire boy 
was not mine, 
Nor went I downe to kisse him. Ease and wine i75 

Have bred these bold tales ; poets, when they rage, 
Tume gods to men, and make an houre an age. 
But I will give a greater state and glory. 
And raise to time a noble [r] memory 

Of what these lovers are. — Rise, rise, I say, 1 80 

Thou power of deepes, thy surges laid away, 
Neptune, great king of waters, and by me 
Be proud to be commanded ! 

Neptune rises. 

Neptune. Cinthia, see. 

Thy word hath fetcht me hither ; let me know 
Why I ascend. 

Cynth. Doth this majesticke show 185 

Give thee no knowledge yet ? 

Nep. Yes, now I see 

Something entended, Cinthia, worthy thee. 
Go on 5 He be a helper. 

Cynth. Hie thee, then. 

And charge the Winde flie from his rockie den, 

170 ivoo^t. Q2, w'oo't. then call, gi, B, omit. 

171 bed. Qi, banck. 172 top. Qi, B, brow. 

173 And of his ... a day, so D. ^2, this long night . . 
this day ; Qi, his . , . thy ; 23 j ^is ... a. 
179 nobler, so Ql. 
i89>>, S3-F. Qi,22, goe. 



20 tlT^e ^a^Desf tCrageu^ [act l 

Let loose Ms subjects ; onely Boreas, 190 

Too foule for our intentions as he was, 

Still keep him fast chaind : we must have none here 

But vemall blasts and gentle winds appeare, 

Such as blow flowers and through the glad bowes sing 

Many soft welcomes to the lusty spring ; 195 

These are our musicke. Next, thy watrie race 

Bring on in couples (we are pleasd to grace 

This noble night), each in their richest things 

Your owne deepes or the broken vessell brings. 

Be prodigall, and I shall be as kind 200 

And shine at full upon you. 

Nep. Oh, the Wind ! 

Commanding Eolus ! 

Enter Eolus out of a Rocke. 

JEolus. Great Neptune ! 

Nept. He. 

uEol. What is thy will ? 

Nep. We doe command thee, free 

Favonius and thy milder winds to waite 
Upon our Cinthia ; but tie Boreas straight, 205 

Hee's too rebellious. 

^ol. I shall doe it. 

Nep. Doe. \_Exit jEoIus.'\ 

[JEoluSy 'within.~\ Great master of the floud and all 
below, 

190 his, 2i. Q2, thy. 

\ 196-97 These . . . couples. Qi reads : 

Bid them draw neere to have thy watrie race 
Led on in couples, we are pleas'd to grace 

See Notes for proposed emendations. 

201 Oh. Qi, See; Q3, Hoe. PTind ! So Dyce. Theo, 

W, and B insert a hyphen after ivind^ no punctuation in Qq, F. 

204 Favonius. Qz, Fanonius. 

207-08 Great . . . Oythe. This arrangement of the text is due to 
Theobald. In Qi, Q2, .bolus's speech begins with, 0, the Maine .' 



Scene II.] ^}^t ^3^500 ©rageU^ 21 

Thy full command has taken. — O, the Maine! 
Neptune ! 

Nep. Heere. 
[Re-enter Molus^ follonved by Fwvonius and other Winds. 1^ 

jEoI. Boreas has broke his chaine 

And, strugiing with the rest, has got away. 210 

Nep. Let him alone j He take him up at sea j 
He will not long be thence. Goe once againe, 
And call out of the bottomes of the maine 
Blew Proteus and the rest ; charge them put on 
Their greatest pearles, and the most sparkling stone 215 

The beaten rocke breeds ; tell this night is done 
By me a solemne honor to the Moone. 
Flie, like a full saile. 

^ol. I am gone. \Exit.~\ 

Cynth. Darke Night, 

Strike a full silence, doe a thorow right 

To this great chorus, that our musicke may 220 

Touch high as Heaven, and make the east breake day 
At midnight. Musicke. 

[FIRST] SONG. 

[During nvhicb Proteus and other Sea-deities enter. Ij^ 

Cinthia, to thy power and thee 

We obey. 
Joy to this great company! 225 

And no day 
Come to steale this night away. 

Till the rites of love are ended, 
And the lusty bridegroome say. 

Welcome, light, of all befriended ! 230 

212 He. Qi, D, B, I. 

ai6 telly Mason, D. gq, F, till. 



22 ®t)r ^a^Ue0 tirragrli^ [act i. 

Pace out, you watery powers below j 

Let your feete, 
Like the gallies when they row. 

Even beate. 
Let your unknowne measures, set 235 

To the still windes, tell to all, 
That gods are come, immortall, great, 

To honor this great nuptiall. 

The Measure. 

SECOND SONG. 

Hold backe thy houres, darke Night, till we have done : 

The day will come too soone : ^^40 

Young maydes will curse thee, if thou steal' st away 

And leav'st their losses open to the day : 
Stay, stay and hide 
The blushes of the bride. 

Stay, gentle Night, and with thy darknesse cover 245 

The kisses of her lover ; 
Stay, and confound her teares and her shrill cryings j 
Her weake denials, vows, and often-dyings j 

Stay, and hide all j 

But helpe not, though she call. 250 

Nep. Great queene of us and heaven, hear what I bring 
To make this houre a full one, if not her measure. 
Cynth. Speak, seas king. 

242 losses, Qi. S2-F, blushes. 

252 If not her measure. Fleay suggests, " Another measure." 
Qi has a stage-direction after the second song, " Maskers daunce, 
Neptune leads it," — followed by i^olus's speech (1. 266). It 
omits the third song and the three speeches preceding. See Notes. 



Scene II. ] ^\)t ^a^De0 ^UQtH^ 23 

Nep. The tunes my Amphitrite joyes to have 
When she will dance upon the rising wave, 255 

And court me as she sayles. My Tritons, play 
Musicke to lay a storme. He lead the way. Measure. 



[THIRD] SONG. 

To bed, to bed ! Come, Hymen, lead the bride 

And lay her by her husbands side } 
Bring in the virgins every one a6o 

That greeve to lie alone. 
That they may kiss while they may say a maid ; 
To-morrow 'twill be other kist and said. 
Hesperus, be long a-shining 
Whilst these lovers are a-twining. 265 

^ol. [^'within']. Ho, Neptune! 

Nep. Eolus ! 

[^Re-enter ^olus.'] 

^ol. The sea goes hie j 

Boreas hath rais'd a storme ; goe and apply 
Thy trident ; else, I prophesie, ere day 
Many a tall ship will be cast away. 

Descend with all the gods and all their power, 270 

To strike a calme. \Exit^ 

Cynth. [We thanke you for this houre j 

My favour to you all.] To gratulate 
So great a service, done at my desire. 
Ye shall have many floods, fuller and higher 
Than you have wisht for, [and] no ebb shall dare 275 

254 The. Q2, Thy. Amphitrite^ Q3. Q2, Amphitrites. 

255 ske^ Seward. Q2, they. 
259 lay. Heath, D. ^2, lead. 

271-72 fFe thanke you . . . you all, so Ql. Qz, A thanks 
to every one, and. 275 and. Only in Ql. 



24 ®lie ^a^Df sf ®rageti^ [act i. 

To let the day see where your dwellmg[s] are. 
Now back unto your government in hast, 
Lest your proud charge should swell above the wast 
And win upon the iland. 

Nep. We obay. 

Neptune descends and the Sea Gods. [Exeunt 
Fa^onius and other Winds. ~\ 

Cynth. Hold up thy head, dead Night ; seest thou not 
Day ? 280 

The east begins to lighten ; I must downe 
And give my brother place. 

Night. Oh, I could frowne 

To see the Day, the Day that flings his light 
Upon my kingdomes and contemnes old Night ! 
Let him goe on and flame ! I hope to see 285 

Another wild-fire in his axel-tree. 
And all fall drencht. But I forget : speake queene. 
The Day growes on ; I must no more be scene. 

Cynth. Heave up thy drowsie head agen and see 
A greater light, a greater majestic *9® 

Between our set and us ! Whip up thy team : 
The Day breakes here, and yon same flashing streame 
Shot from the south. Say, which way wilt thou goe ? 

Night. He vanish into mists. 

Cynth. I into Day. 

Exeunt [Night and Cynthia'] . 
Finis Maske. 

276 dive/lings. Only ^2 reads, dwelling. 

277 government. Qi, governments. 

Neptune . . . Sea Gods. After this line Ql has stage-direction, 
Exeunt Maskers Descend. 

291 set. Seward's correction for Qq, F, sect. Whip. Qi,Lash. 

292 same fi ashing. Qi, D, B, sun-flaring. 

293 Say . . . goe. D, making a rhyming couplet, Which 
way wilt thou goe, say. 294 I into Day. Qi adds, Adew. 



Scene II.] ^\)t ^3^1)06^ WU^tti^ 2$ 

King. Take lights there! — Ladies, get the 
bride to bed. — ^95 

We will not see you laid ; good night, Amintor ; 
Weele ease you of that tedious ceremonie. 
Were it my case, I should thinke time runne 

slow. 
If thou beest noble, youth, get me a boy 
That may defend my kingdomes from my foes. 3oo 
Jmin. All happinesse to you ! 
King. Good night, Melantius. 

Exeunt. 



Actus Secundus. 

[Scene I. A?ite-room to Evadne^s Bed-chamber.'^ 
Enter Evadne, Aspatia^ Dula, and other Ladyes. 

Dula. Madam, shall we undresse you for this 
fight ? 
The wars are nak't that you must make to-night. 

Evadne. You are very merry, Dula. 

Dul. I should be 

Far merrier, madam, if it were with me 
As it is with you. 

\Evad* Howes that ? 

Dul That I might goe 5 

To bed with him wi'th' credit that you doe.] 

Evad. Why, how now, wench ? 

Dul. Come, ladies, will you helpe } 

Evad. I am soone undone. 

Dul. And as soone done ; 

Good store of clothes will trouble you at both. 

Evad. Art thou drunke, Dula ? 

Dul. Why, heeres none but we. lo 

Evad. Thou thinkst belike there is no mod- 
esty 
When we are alone. 

5-6 Hoives that . . . doe. Evadne's speech and Dula's reply are 
only in ^l. 



Scene I] ®^e ^a^Desi tD^rageD^ 27 

Dul. I, by my troth, you hit my thoughts 
aright. 

Evad, You pricke me, lady. 

1st Lady, Tis against my will. 

Dul. Anon you must indure more and lie still ; 15 
You're best to practise. 

Evad. Sure, this wench is mad. 

Dul. No faith, this is a tricke that I have had 
Since I was foureteene. 

Evad. Tis high time to leave it. 

Dul. Nay, now He keepe it till the trick 
leave me. 
A dozen wanton words put in your head 20 

Will make you livelier in your husbands bed. 

Evad. Nay, faith, then take it. 

Dul. Take it, madam ; where ? 

We all, I hope, will take it that are here. 

Evad. Nay, then, He give you ore. 

Dul. So will I make 

The ablest man in Rhodes, or his heart ake. 25 

Evad. Wilt take my place to-night ? 

Dul. He hold your cards 

Against any two I know. 

Evad. What wilt thou doe ? 

Dul. Madam, weele doo 't, and make *m leave 
play too. 

14 1st Lady. Q^, Dul, 26 take. Ql, He m. 

\ 27 Against. Th, D, 'Gainst. 



Evad. Aspatia, take her part. 

DuL I will refuse it ; 

She will plucke downe a side ; she does not use it. 30 

Evad. Why, doe, [I prethee.] 

DuU You will find the play 

Quickly, because your head lies well that way. 

Evad. I thanke thee, Dula. Would thou 
couldst instill 
Some of thy mirth into Aspatia ! 
Nothing but sad thoughts in her brest doe dwell ; 35 
Methinkes a meane betwixt you would doe well. 

DuL She is in love : hang me, if I were so. 
But I could run my countrey. I love too 
To doe those things that people in love doe. 

Aspatia. It were a timelesse smile should prove 
my cheeke. 40 

It were a fitter houre for me to laugh. 
When at the altar the religious priest 
Were pacifying the offended powers 
With sacrifice, then now. This should have 

beene 
My rite ; and all your hands have bin imploy'd 45 
In giving me a spotlesse offering 
To young Amintors bed, as we are now 
For you. Pardon, Evadne : would my worth 
Were great as yours, or that the King, or he, 

31 I prethee. Only in Ql. 38 could. B queries, would. 

40 cheeke. Q2, cheeke. 

45 ritCy so D. Ql, right } ^2 and other (^q and F, night. 



Scene I] tETJe ^Pa^Uttf tBt^^tH^ 29 

Or both, thought so. Perhaps he found me 

worthlesse ; 50 

But till he did so, in these eares of mine. 
These credulous eares, he powred the sweetest 

words 
That art or love could frame. If he were false, 
Pardon it. Heaven ! and, if I did want 
Vertue, you safely may forgive that too ; 55 

For I have lost none that I had from you. 
Evad. Nay, leave this sad talke, madame. 
Asp. Would I could ! 

Then I should leave the cause. 

Evad. See, if you have not spoild all Dulas 

mirth ! 
Asp. Thou thinkst thy heart hard ; but if 
thou beest caught, 60 

Remember me ; thou shalt perceive a fire 
Shot suddenly into thee. 

Dul. Thats not so good ; 

Let 'em shoot anything but fire, I feare 'em not. 
Asp. Well, wench, thou maist be taken. 
Evad. Ladies, good-night ; He doe the rest 

myselfe. 65 

Dul. Nay, let your lord doe some. 
Asp. [singing]. 

Lay a garland on my hearse 
Of the dismall yew — 
56 lost. 25-F", left. 58 I should. Q3-F, should I. 

63 I feare. (^i, B, and I fear. 
67-90 Lay . . . Madame. Q^i omits. 



Evad. Thats one of your sad songs, madame. 
Asp. Beleeve me, tis a very prety one. 70 

Evad, How is it, madame ? 
Asp, 

SONG. 

Lay a garland on my hearse 

Of the dismall yew j 
Maidens, willow-branches beare, 

Say I died true. 75 

My love was false, but I was firme 

From my houre of birth j 
Upon my buried body lie 

Lightly, gentle earth ! 

Evad. Fie ont, madame, the words are so 
strange, they 80 

Are able to make one dreame of hobgoblines. — 
" I could never have the power " — sing that, 
Dula. 
Dul. \singing\ . 

I could never have the power 

To love one above an houre. 

But my heart would prompt mine eie 85 

On some other man to flie. 

Venus, fix mine eies fast. 

Or, if not, give me all that I shall see at last ! 

78 lie, Th. gq, F, lay. 

79 g^^^K Q4-F- Q^, Q3, gently. 

80-82 Fie . . . Dula. Qq, F, B print as prose. 



Scene I] tj^^t ^di^t>t$ ^U^tt^^ 3 1 

Evad. So, leave me now. 

Dul. Nay, we must see you laid. 

Jsp. Madame, good night. May all the mar- 
iage joyes 90 

That longing maids imagine in their beds 
Prove so unto you ! May no discontent 
Grow twixt your love and you ! but, if there 

doe, 
Enquire of me, and I will guide your mone ; 
Teach you an artificiall way to grieve, 95 

To keepe your sorrow waking. Love your lord 
No worse than I ; but, if you love so well, 
Alas, you may displease him ; so did I. 
This is the last time you shall looke on me. — 
Ladies, farewell. As soone as I am dead, 100 

Come all and watch one night about my hearse ; 
Bring each a mournefull story and a teare. 
To offer at it when I goe to earth ; 
With flattering ivy claspe my coffin round ; 
Write on my brow my fortune; let my beere 105 
Be borne by virgins, that shall sing by course 
The truth of maides and perjuries of men. 

Evad. Alas, I pittie thee. Exit Evadne. 

Omnes. Madame, good night. 

1st Lady. Come, weele let in the bridegroome. 

Dul. Where's my lord ? 

1st Lady. Heere, take this light. 

95 Teach, 23. Q^j Q*> ^nd teach. 



34 ®fte ^a^De0 tECrageti^ [act ii. 

Enter Amintor. 
DuL You'le finde her in the darke. iio 

1st Lady. Your ladye's scarce a-bed yet ; you 

must helpe her. 
Asp. Goe, and be happy in your ladies love. 
May all the wrongs that you have done to me 
Be utterly forgotten in my death ! 
He trouble you no more, yet I will take 115 

A parting kisse, and will not be denied. 

\_Kisses Amintor. "^ 
You'le come, my lord, and see the virgins weepe 
When I am laid in earth, though you yourselfe 
Can know no pitty. Thus I winde myselfe 
Into this willow-garland, and am prouder 120 

That I was once your love, though now refus'd, 
Then to have had another true to me. 
So with [my] praiers I leave you, and must trie 
Some yet unpractised way to grieve and die. 

Exit Aspatia. 
Dul. Come, ladies, will you go ? 
Omnes. Good night, my lord. 1*5 

Amintor, Much happinesse unto you all ! 

Exeunt \Dula and~\ Ladies. 
I did that lady wrong. Methinkes I feele 
A griefe shoot suddenly through all my veines ; 
Mine eyes raine ; this is strange at such a time. 
It was the King first mov*d me too't ; but he 130 

no Toule. gi, D, B, Heele. 123 »y, Q3. 

iz8 Ay <^i. ga, Her. 129 raincy Qi. Q2, runne. 



Scene I.] tl^\)t ^3^000 tEtrHgeU^ 33 

Has not my will in keeping. — Why doe I 
Perplex myselfe thus ? Something whispers me, 
Goe not to bed. My guilt is not so great 
As mine owne conscience (too sensible) 
Would make me thinke ; I onely brake a pro- 
mise, 13s 
And twas the King that forst me. Timorous 

flesh, 
Why shak'st thou so ? Away, my idle feares ! 

Enter Evadne. 
Yonder she is, the luster of whose eie 
Can blot away the sad remembrance 
Of all these things. — Oh, my Evadne, spare 140 
That tender body ; let it not take cold ! 
The vapors of the night will not fall here. 
To bed, my love ; Hymen will punish us 
For being slacke performers of his rites. 
Camst thou to call me ? 

Evad. No. 

Amin. Come, come, my love, 145 

And let us lose ourselves to one another. 
Why art thou up so long ? 

Evad. I am not well. 

Amin. To bed then ; let me winde thee in 
these armes 
Till I have banisht sicknesse. 

136 that font. Qi, inforst ; D, enforc'd. 
142 'Will. <;)i, D, B, shaU. 



34 ^^t ^a^ue0 ®rageti^ [act n. 

Evad. Good my lord, 

I cannot sleepe. 

Amin. Evadne, weele watch ; 150 

I meane no sleeping. 

Evad. He not goe to bed. 

Amin. I prethee, do. 

Evad. I will not for the world. 

Amin. Why, my deere love ? 

Evad. Why ? I have sworne I will not. 

Amin. Sworne ! 

Evad. I. 

Amin. How ? sworne, Evadne ! 

Evad. Yes, sworne, Amintor; and will 
sweare again, 155 

If you will wish to heare me. 

Amin. To whom have you sworne this ? 

Evad. If I should name him, the matter were 
not great. 

Amin. Come, this is but the coynesse of a 
bride. 

Evad. The coynesse of a bride ! 

Amin. How pretilyi6o 

That frowne becomes thee ! 

Evad. Doe you like it so ? 

Amin. Thou canst not dresse thy face in such 
a looke 
But I shall like it. 

Evad. What looke likes you best ? 

164 likes. Qi, B, will like. 



Scene I] ®^e ^3^13^0 ©ragcu^ 35 

Amin. Why doe you aske? 

Evad. That I may shew you one lesse pleas- 
ing to you. 165 

Amin. Howes that ? 

Evad. That I may show you one lesse pleas- 
ing to you. 

Amin. I prethee, put thy jests in milder 
lookes ; 
It shewes as thou wert angry. 

Evad. So perhaps 

I am indeede. 

Amin. Why, who has done thee wrong ? 170 

Name me the man, and by thyselfe I sweare. 
Thy yet unconquered self, I will revenge thee ! 

Evad. Now I shall trie thy truth. If thou 
doest love me, 
Thou weighest not anything compared with me : 
Life, honour, joyes eternall, all delights 175 

This world can yeeld, or hopefull people faine, 
Or in the life to come, are light as aire 
To a true lover when his lady frownes. 
And bids him, " Doe this." Wilt thou kill this 

man ? 
Sweare, my Amintor, and Fie kisse the sin 180 
Off from thy lips. 

Amin. I wonnot sweare, sweet love. 

Till I do know the cause. 

Evad. I wood thou wouldst. 



36 W^t ^a^Ues? tETrageUi? [act h. 

Why, it is thou that wrongst me ; I hate thee ; 
Thou should'st have kild thyselfe. 

Jmin. If I should know that, I should quickly 
kill 185 

The man you hated. 

Evad. Know it, then, and doo't. 

Jmin. Oh, no ! what look so ere thou shalt 
put on 
To trie my faith, I shall not think thee false ; 
I cannot finde one blemish in thy face 
Where falsehood should abide. Leave, and to 

bed. 190 

If you have sworne to any of the virgins 
That were your old companions, to preserve 
Your maidenhead a night, it may be done 
Without this meanes. 

Evad. A maidenhead, Amintor, 

At my yeares ! 

Jmin. Sure she raves; this cannot be 195 

Thy natural temper. — Shall I call thy maides ? 
Either thy healthfull sleepe hath left thee long. 
Or else some feaver rages in thy blood. 

Evad. Neither, Amintor : thinke you I am 
mad 
Because I speake the truth ? 

Jmin. [Is this the truth ?] 200 

Will you not lie with me to-night ? 

196 Thy. Qi, B, Her. 200 h this the truth f Only in Qi. 



Scene L] tB\)t ^W^Ut^ tCragtD^ 37 

Evad, To-night ! 

You talke as if [you thought] I would hereafter. 

Jmin, Hereafter ! yes, I doe. 

Evad. You are deceived. 

Put off amazement & with patience marke 
What I shall utter, for the oracle 205 

Knowes nothing truer. Tis not for a night 
Or two that I forbeare thy bed, but ever. 

Amin, I dreame. Awake, Amintor ! 

Evad. You heare right : 

I sooner will find out the beds of snakes. 
And with my youthful bloud warme their cold 

flesh, aio 

Letting them curie themselves about my limbes. 
Then sleepe one night with thee. This is not 

faind. 
Nor sounds it like the coynesse of a bride, 

Amin. Is flesh so earthly to endure all this ? 
Are these the joys of manage ? Hymen, keepe 215 
This story (that will make succeeding youth 
Neglect thy ceremonies) from all eares; 
Let it not rise up, for thy shame and mine, 
To after ages. We will ^corne thy laws. 
If thou no better blesse them. Touch the heart 220 
Of her that thou hast sent me, or the world 
Shall know ; there's not an altar that will smoke 

202 you thought. Only in Ql. 207 e-ver, Q4-F, forever. 

222 Shall knoiv ; there i not an altar. Qi, Shall know this, 
not an altar then will smoake — adopted by B. Q2 has no punc- 
tuation after knoiv. 



38 aplje ^a^Des; tErageu^ [act ii. 

In praise of thee ; we will adopt us sons ; 

Then vertue shall inherit, and not blood. 

If we doe lust, wee'le take the next we meet, 225 

Serving ourselves as other creatures doe j 

And never take note of the female more. 

Nor of her issue. — I doe rage in vaine ; 

She can but jest. — Oh, pardon me, my love ! 

So deare the thoughts are that I hold of thee, ^30 

That I must breake forth. Satisfie my feare ; 

It is a paine, beyond the hand of death. 

To be in doubt : confirme it with an oath, 

If this be true. 

Evad. Doe you invent the forme; 

Let there be in it all the binding words *35 

Divels and conjurers can put together. 
And I will take it. I have sworne before, 
And here by all things holy doe againe. 
Never to be acquainted with thy bed. 
Is your doubt over now ? 140 

Amin. I know too much : would I had 
doubted still ! 
Was ever such a mariage-night as this ! 
You powers above, if you did ever meane 
Man should be us'd thus, you have thought a 

way 
How he may beare himselfe and save his honour : 245 
Instruct me in it ; for to my dull eyes 
There is no meane, no moderate course to runne j 



Scene I.] ®t)e ^3^1500 ®rage0^ 39 

I must live scorn'd, or be a murderer : 
Is there a third ? Why is this night so calme ? 
Why does not Heaven speake in thunder to us 250 
And drow^ne her voice ? 

Evad, This rage will doe no good. 

Jmin. Evadne, heare me. Thou has tane an 
oath, 
But such a rash one, that to keepe it were 
Worse then to sweare it : call it backe to thee ; 
Such vowes as those never ascend the Heaven; 255 
A teare or two will wash it quite away. 
Have mercy on my youth, my hopefull youth. 
If thou be pittifull ! for, without boast. 
This land was proud of me : what lady was there. 
That men cald faire and vertuous in this isle, 260 
That would have shund my love ? It is in thee 
To make me hold this worth. Oh, we vaine men, 
That trust [out] all our reputation 
To rest upon the weake and yeelding hand 
Of feeble woman ! But thou art not stone ; 265 
Thy flesh is soft, and in thine eyes doth dwell 
The spirit of love ; thy heart cannot be hard. 
Come, lead me from the bottome of despaire 
To all the joyes thou hast ; I know thou wilt ; 
And make me carefull lest the sudden change 270 
Orecome my spirits. 

255 those, gi, Th, D, B, that. 263 out^ Q3. 
266 doth^ 23. (^2, doe. 



40 JE^\)t ^a^Desf ^rageu^ [act ii. 

Evad. When I call backe this oath, 

The paines of hell inviron me ! 

Jmin. I sleepe, and am too temperate. Come 
to bed ! 
Or,by those haires, which, if thou ha[d] st a soule 
Like to thy locks, were threads for kings to 

weare a75 

About their armes — 

Evad, Why, so perhaps they are. 

Amin. He dragge thee to my bed and make 
thy tongue 
Undoe this wicked oath, or on thy flesh 
He print a thousand wounds to let out life ! 
Evad, I feare thee not ; do what thou dar'st 

to me ! aSo 

Every ill-sounding word or threatning look 
Thou shewest to me will be reveng'd at full. 
Amin. It will not sure, Evadne ? 
Evad, Do not you hazard that. 
Amin, Ha ye your champions ? 

Evad, Alas, Amintor, thinkst thou I for- 
beare 285 

To sleepe with thee, because I have put on 
A maidens strictnesse ? Looke upon these 

cheekes. 
And thou shalt finde the hot and rising blood 
Unapt for such a vow. No ; in this heart 

274 badit^ Th. 



Scene I.] tE^f)t ^a^UfS ©tageD^ 4I 

There dwels as much desire and as much will 290 
To put that wisht act in practice as ever yet 
Was knowne to woman j and they have been 

showne 
Both. But it was the folly of thy youth 
To think this beauty, to what land soere 
It shall be cald, shall stoope to any second. »95 
I doe enjoy the best, and in that height 
Have sworne to stand or die : you guesse the 
man. 

Jmin, No ; let me know the man that wrongs 
me so, 
That I may cut his body into motes. 
And scatter it before the northren winde. 300 

Evad. You dare not strike him. 

Jmin. Doe not wrong me so : 

Yes, if his body were a poysonous plant 
That it were death to touch, I have a soule 
Will throw me on him. 

Evad. Why tis the King. 

Jmin. The King! 

Evad. What will you doe now ? 

Jmin. Tis not the King ! 305 

Evad. What did he make this match for, 
dull Amintor ? 

291 ivisht. Qi, B, wished, ever. D, e'er. 
294 land. B conjectures hand, observing that Evadne is em- 
ploying the language of falconry. 



42 W^t ^a^Desi ®raget)^ [act ii. 

Jmin, Oh, thou hast nam'd a word that 
wipes away 
All thoughts revengefull ! In that sacred name, 
" The King," there lies a terror. What fraile 

man 
Dares lift his hand against it ? Let the gods 310 
Speake to him when they please : till when, let us 
Suffer and waite. 

Evad. Why should you fill yourselfe so full 
of heate 
And haste so to my bed ? I am no virgin. 

Jmin. What divell put it in thy fancy, then, 315 
To mary me ? 

Evad. Alas, I must have one 

To father children and to beare the name 
Of husband to me, that my sinne may be 
More honorable ! 

Jmin. What a strange thing am I ! 

Evad. A miserable one, one that myselfe 320 
Am sory for. 

Jmin. Why, shew it then in this : 

If thou hast pittie, though thy love be none, 
Kill me ; and all true lovers, that shall live 
In after ages crost in their desires, 
Shall blesse thy memory and call thee good, 325 
Because such mercy in thy heart was found. 
To rid a lingring wretch. 

308 name. Qi, Th, D, B, word. 1^9 o. gi, B, omit. 



Scene I] ®t|e ^^^l}t!S tBU^tH^ 43 

Evad. I must have one 

To fill thy roome again, if thou wert dead ; 
Else, by this night, I would ! I pitty thee. 

Amin. These strange and sudden injuries have 
falne 330 

So thicke upon me, that I lose all sense 
Of what they are. Methinkes I am not wrong'd ; 
Nor is it ought, if from the censuring world 
I can but hide it. — Reputation, 
Thou art a word, no more ! — But thou hast 

showne 335 

An impudence so high that to the world 
I feare thou wilt betray or shame thyselfe. 

Evad. To cover shame, I tooke thee ; never 
feare 
That I would blaze myselfe. 

Amin. Nor let the King 

Know I conceive he wrongs me ; then mine 

honor 340 

Will thrust me into action ; that my flesh 
Could beare with patience. And it is some ease 
To me in these extremes, that I know this 
Before I toucht thee ; else, had all the sinnes 
Of mankinde stood betwixt me and the King, 345 
I had gone through 'em to his heart and thine. 
I have lost one desire : tis not his crowne 

341 that. Edd. 1778, W, tho'. 343 knoiu. Q4, knew. 
347 loit. Qi, left. 



44 Wi^t ^apDf tETrageD^ [act ii. 

Shall buy me to thy bed, now I resolve 

He has dishonour'd thee. Give me thy hand; 

Be carefull of thy credit, and sin close ; 350 

Tis all I wish. Upon thy chamber-floure 

He rest to-night that morning visiters 

May thinke we did as married people use : 

And prethee, smile upon me when they come. 

And seeme to toy as if thou hadst beene pleased 355 

With what we did. 

Evad. Feare not ; I will doe this. 

Jmin, Come, let us practise ; and, as wan- 
tonly 
As ever loving bride and bridegroome met, 
Lets laugh and enter here. 

Evad. I am content. 

Am'tn, Downe all the swellings of my troubled 
heart ! 360 

When we walke thus intwin'd, let all eies see 
If ever lovers better did agree. Exeunt. 

[Scene II. An Apartment in the House of Calianax.'] 

Enter Aspatia, Antiphila, and Olimpias. 

Aspatia. Away, you are not sad ; force it no 
further. 
Good gods, how well you looke ! Such a full 
colour 

358 loving, gi, B, longmg. Exeunt. Q2, Exit. 



scKNE II.] ^i^t ^a^De0 tETrageJj^ 45 

Yo [u] ng bashfull brides put on ; sure, you are 
new maried ! 

Jntiphila. Yes, madame, to your griefe. 

Asp. Alas, poor wenches ! 

Goe learn to love first ; learne to lose your- 
selves ; 5 
Learne to be flattered, and beleeve and blesse 
The double tongue that did it ; make a faith 
Out of the miracles of ancient lovers. 
Such as speake truth and died in't ; and, like me, 
Beleeve all faithful, and be miserable. lo 
Did you nere love yet, wenches ? Speake, Olim- 

pias : 
Thou hast an easie temper, fit for stamp. 

Olimpias. Never. 

Asp. Nor you, Antiphila ? 

Jnt, Nor I. 

Jsp. Then, my good girls, be more than 
women, wise ; 
At least bee more than I was; and be sure 15 

You credit anything the light gives life to, 
Before a man. Rather beleeve the sea 

9 speake. Th, D, spake. died. Q2, di'd. 
II Did . . . Olimpias. In all early editions except Qi, this line 
follows 1. 8 ; the transposition was made by Theobald. 
Ql, The double tongue that did it, 

Did you ere love yet wenches, speake Olimpas, 
Thou hast a metled temper, fit for stamp. 

15-27 and be sure . . . beast man. Qi omits. Q2-F, as prose. 
16 life, Q2. Q3-F, light. 



46 ®t)e ^a^iie0 ®ragei>^ [act n. 

Weepes for the ruin'd marchant, when he rores ; 
Rather, the wind courts but the pregnant sailes, 
When the strong cordage crackes ; rather, the 

sunne ao 

Comes but to kisse the fruit in wealthy autumne. 
When all falles blasted. If you needs must love, 
(Forc'd by ill fate) take to your maiden bosomes 
Two dead-cold aspicks, and of them make 

lovers : 
They cannot flatter nor forsweare ; one kisse 25 
Makes a long peace for all. But man — 
Oh, that beast man ! Come, lets be sad, my 

girles : 
That downe-cast of thine eie, Olimpias, 
Shewes a fine sorrow. — Marke, Antiphila ; 
Just such another was the nymph iEnones, 30 

When Paris brought home Hellen. — Now, a 

teare ; 
And then thou art a piece expressing fully 
The Carthage queene, when from a cold sea- 

rocke. 
Full with her sorrow, she tied fast her eyes 
To the faire Trojan ships; and having lost 

them, 35 

Just as thine does, downe stole a teare. — An- 
tiphila, 

24 dead-cold. ^2, dead cold j corrected by Th. 

30 j^nones. F, CEnone. 

36 thine does. {^3, thine eyes doesj Q4-F, D, thine eyes do. 



Scene II. ] tl^\)t ^3^000 WtB^tt^ 47 

What would this wench doe, if she were Aspa- 

tia ? 
Here she would stand till some more pittying god 
Turnd her to marble ! — Tis enough, my 

wench ! — 
Shew me the peece of needleworke you wrought. 40 
j^nt. Of Ariadne, madam ? 
Jsp. Yes, that peece. — 

This should be Theseus ; h'as a cousening 

face. — 
You meant him for a man ? 

Jnt. He was so, madame. 

Jsp. Why, then, tis well enough. — Never 
looke backe ; 
You have a full winde and a false heart, 

Theseus. — 45 

Does not the story say, his keele was split. 
Or his masts spent, or some kinde rocke or other 
Met with his vessell ? 

Jnt» Not as I remember. 

Jsp, It should ha beene so. Could the gods 
know this. 
And not, of all their number, raise a storme ? 50 
But they are all as evil. This false smile 
Was well exprest ; just such another caught 
me. — 

51-54 But they . . . quicksand. The division of lines follows D. 
In Qz lines end with exprest^ jintipAila, quicksand. 
51 e-vii, D. Qq, F, ill. 



48 tE^^e ^a^Ufs; STragelJ^ [act n. 

You shall not goe so. — 

Antiphila, in this place worke a quicksand, 

And over it a shallow smiling water, 55 

And his ship ploughing it ; and then a Feare : 

Doe that Feare to the life, wench. 

Jnt. Twill wrong the storie 

Jsp. Twill make the story, wrongM by 
wanton poets. 
Live long and be beleev'd. But wheres the lady .? 
Ant, There, madame. 60 

Asp. Fie, you have mist it here, Antiphila ; 
You are much mistaken, wench : 
These colours are not dull and pale enough 
To shew a soule so full of misery 
As this sad ladies was. Doe it by me, 65 

Doe it againe by me, the lost Aspatia ; 
And you shall finde all true but the wilde iland. 
I stand upon the sea-breach now ; and thinke 
Mine armes thus, and mine haire blowne with 

the wind, 
Wilde as that desart ; and let all about me 70 

Tell that I am forsaken. Doe my face 
(If thou hadst ever feeling of a sorrow) 
Thus, thus, Antiphila : strive to make me looke 

57 to the life. Qi, bravely. 

68 and thinkey Qi and D omit. Q^i, D, B, Suppose I stand 
upon the sea-breach now. 

71 Tell that I am forsaken. ^\ substitutes, Be teares of my 
story } Theobald, Be teachers, etc. 



Scene II.] ^^t ^3^500 tE'tU^tt^ 49 

Like Sorrowes monument ; and the trees about 

me, 
Let them be dry and leaveless ; let the rocks 75 
Groane with continuall surges ; and behind me, 
Make all a desolation. Looke, looke, wenches, 
A miserable life of this poore picture ! 
Oiim. Deere madam ! 

^sp. I have done. Sit downe, and let us 

Upon that point fixe all our eyes, that point 

there. 8o 

Make a dull silence, till you feel a sudden sad- 

nesse 
Give us new soules. 

En^er Calianax. 
Calianax, The King may doe this, and he 
may not doe it : 
My child is wrongd, disgraced. — Well, how 

now, huswives ? 
What, at your ease ! is this a time to sit still ? 85 
Up, you young lazie whores, up, or He swenge 
you ! 
OUm, Nay, good my lord — 
Cal. You'l lie downe shortly. Get you in, and 
worke ! 
What, are you growne so reasty you want 
heates ? 

77 Looke^ looke. Qi, D, B, See, see. 
81 dull^ Q3 et al. ; Qi, Q2, dumbe. 
89 reasty. Qi, rusty. QS* resty. 



50 tET^r £pa^De0 tETragen^ [act ii. 

We shall have some of the court-boyes doe that 

office. 90 

Ant. My lord, we doe no more than we are 

charg'd : 
It is the ladies pleasure we be thus 
In griefe, shee is forsaken. 

CaL Theres a rogue too, 

A young dissembling slave ! — Well, get you 

in. — 
He have a bout with that boy. Tis hie time 95 
Now to be valiant : I confesse my youth 
Was never prone that way. What, made an 

asse ! 
A court-stale ! Well, I will be valiant. 
And beate some dozen of these whelps ; I will ! 
And theres another of 'em, a trim cheating soul- 

dier ; 100 

He maule that rascall ; has out-brav'd me twice; 
But now, I thanke the gods, I am valiant. — 
Goe, get you in. — He take a course with all. 

Exeunt Om[nes], 

90 doe that office. Qi, D, B, heat you shortly. 

93 In griefe y shee is forsaken. Dyce omits comma ; Mason, B, 
omit comma and put semi-colon after thus. Qi— QS print in 
griefe in the preceding line. 



Actus Tertius. 

[Scene I. Ante-room to Evadne^ s Bed-chamber, "X 

Enter Cleon, StratOy and Diphilus. 

Cleon. Your sister is not up yet. 

Diphilus. Oh, brides must take their morn- 
ings rest; the night is troublesome. 

Strata. But not tedious. 

Diph. What ods, hee has not my sisters maid- 5 
enhead to-night ? 

Stra. None; its ods against any bridegrome 
living, he nere gets it while he lives. 

Diph. Y'are merry with my sister; you'le 
please to allow me the same freedome with your lo 
mother. 

Stra. Shees at your service. 

Diph, Then shees merry enough of herselfe ; 
shee needs no tickling. Knocke at the dore. 

Stra. We shall interrupt them. 15 

Diph, No matter; they have the yeare before 
them. ^Strato knocks.l 

Good morrow, sister. Spare yourselfe to-day ; 
The night will come againe. 
Enter Amintor 

Amintor. Whose there ? my brother ! Pm no 

readier yet. 20 

Your sister is but now up. 

iNone^i^i. Qa, No. 



52 ®^e ^a^ue^ tETrageUi^ [act m. 

Diph. You looke as you had lost your eyes 
to-night : 
I thinke you ha not slept. 

Jmin, I faith I have not. 

Diph. You have done better, then. 

Amin. We ventured for a boy j when he is 

twelve, as 

A shall command against the foes of Rhodes. 
Shall we be merry ? 

Stra, You cannot ; you want sleepe. 

Amin, Tis true. — (^Aside.) But she, 

As if she had drunke Lethe, or had made 
Even with Heaven, did fetch so still a sleepe, 30 
So sweet and sound — 

Diph. Whats that ? 

Amin. Your sister frets 

This morning, and does turn her eyes upon me, 
As people on their headsman. She does chafe 
And kisse, and chafe againe, and clap my 

cheekes ; 
Shees in another world. 35 

Diph. Then I had lost : I was about to lay 
You had not got her maidenhead to-night. 

Amin. [aside] . Ha ! he does not mocke me ? — 
Y'ad lost indeed ; 
I doe not use to bungle. 

Cleon. You doe deserve her. 

38 be does not mocke. Qi, D, B, does he not mocke. 



Scene I] t!^\)t ^H^Urfi Wm%tl>^ 53 

Jmin. (aside). I laid my lips to hers, and that 
wild breath, 40 

That was so rude and rough to me last night, 
Was sweet as Aprill. He be guilty too. 
If these be the effects. 

Effter Melantius. 

Melantius. Good day, Amintor ; for to me the 
name 
Of brother is too distant ; we are friends, 45 

And that is nearer. 

Amin. Deare Melantius ! 

Let me behold thee. — Is it possible ? 

Mel. What sudden gaze is this ? 

Amin. Tis wondrous strange ! 

Mel. Why does thine eye desire so strict a view 
Of that it knowes so well ? Theres nothing heere 50 
That is not thine. 

Amin. I wonder much, Melantius, 

To see those noble lookes, that made me thinke 
How vertuous thou artj and, on the sudden, 
Tis strange to me thou shouldst have worth and 

honour; 
Or not be base, and false, and trecherous, 55 

And every ill. But — 

Mel. Stay, stay, my friend ; 

I feare this sound will not become our loves : 
No more ; embrace me ! 

58 No more ; embrace me. Qq and D read, No more embrace 
me. F has comma after more. 



54 ^^t ^ai^Desf tlTrageti^ [act m. 

Amin. Oh, mistake me not ! 

I know thee to be full of all those deeds 
That we fraile men call good ; but by the course 60 
Of nature thou shouldst be as quickly chang'd 
As are the windes, dissembling as the sea, 
That now weares browes as smooth as virgins be. 
Tempting the merchant to invade his face, 
And in an houre cals his billows up, 65 

And shoots em at the sun, destroying all 
A carries on him. — (^Jside.^ Oh, how nere am I 
To utter my sicke thoughts ! 

Mel. But why, my friend, should I be so by 
nature ? 

Amin. I have wed thy sister, who hath vertu- 
ous thoughts 70 

Enow for one whole family ; and it is strange 
That you should feele no want. 

Mel, Beleeve me, this is complement too 
cunning for me. 

Diph. What should I be then by the course 
of nature. 
They having both robd me of so much vertue ? 75 

Stra, Oh, call the bride, my lord Amintor, 
That wee may see her blush, and turne her eies 

downe : 
It is the pritiest sport. 

Amin. Evadne ! 

73 this h complement. D, this compliment's. 



Scene I] tET^Jt ^n^tt& tCragftJ^ 55 

Evadne (within). My lord ? 

Amin. Come forth, my love : 

Your brothers do attend to wish you joy. 80 

Evad, [within^ . I am not ready yet. 

Amin. Enough, enough. 

Evad. ^iuithin~\ . They'le mock me. 

Amin. Faith, thou shalt come in. 

Enter Evad?ie. 

Mel. Good morrow, sister. He that under- 
stands 
Whom you have wed, neede not to wish you joy ; 
You have enough ; take heede you be not proud. 85 

Diph. Oh, sister, what have you done ? 

Evad. I done ! Why, what have I done ? 

Stra. My lord Amintor sweares you are no 
maid now. 

Evad. Push! 

Stra. I faith, he does. 

Evad. I knew I should be mockt. 90 

Diph. With a truth. 

Evad. If twere to doe againe, 

In faith I would not mary. 

Amin. (aside). Nor I, by Heaven ! 

Diph. Sister, Dula sweares 

Shee heard you cry two roomes ofF. 

Evad. Fie, how you talke ! 

86-102 Ok, sister . . . the other ivay. The arrangement of 
lines is based on that of Dyce. B prints as prose. 



56 W\)t ^a^ue0 tETrageD^ [act m. 

Diph. Lets see you walke. 95 

Evad. By my troth y'are spoild. 

Mel. Amintor. — 

Jmin, Ha! 

Mel, Thou art sad. 

Jmin. Who, I ? I thanke you for that. 

Shall Diphilus, thou, and I sing a catch ? 

Mel. How ? loo 

Amin. Prethee, lets. 

Mel. Nay, that's too much the other way. 

Amin. I am so lightned with my happi- 
nesse ! — 
How dost thou, love ? Kisse me. 

Evad. I cannot love you, you tell tales of me. 105 

Amin. Nothing but what becomes us. — 
Gentlemen, 
Would you had all such wives, — and all the 

world. 
That I might be no wonder ! — Y'are all sad : 
What, doe you envie me ? I walke, methinks, 
On water, and nere sinke, I am so light. no 

Mel. Tis well you are so. 

Amin. Well, how can I be other, 

When shee lookes thus ? — Is there no musicke 

there ? 
Lets dance. 

95-96 Diph. Lets . . . spoilJ. Edd. 1778, W, and B, read : 
DipA. Let's see you walk, Evadne. By my troth, y'are spoil'd. 



Scene I] tE^t ^a^Ur0 ^tUQttl^ 57 

Mei. Why this is strange, Amintor ! 

Jmin. I doe not know myselfe ; yet I could 
wish 
My joy were lesse. 115 

Dtph. He mary too, if it will make one thus. 

Evad, (aside). Amintor, harke. 

Amin, What saies my love ? — I must obey. 

Evad, You doe it scurvily ; twill be perceivM. 

Cleon. My lord, the King is here. 120 

Enter King and Lisip\_pus\, 

Amin, Where ? 

Stra. And his brother. 

King. Good morrow, all ! — 
Amintor, joy on joy fall thicke upon thee ! — 
And, madame you are alterd since I saw you ; 125 
I must salute you ; you are now anothers. 
How lik't you your nights rest ? 

Evad. Ill, sir. 

Amin. Indeed, 

She tooke but little. 

Lysippus. You'le let her take more, 

And thanke her too, shortly. 

King. Amintor, wert thou truely honest till 130 
Thou wert maried ? 

Amin. Yes, sir. 

King. Tell me, then, how shews 

The sport unto thee ? 

Amin. Why, well. 



58 arije ^a^Des; tETrageu^ [act m. 

King. What did you doe ? 

Amin. No more, nor lesse then other couples 
use ; 
You know what tis ; it has but a coarse name. 

King. But, prethee, I should thinke by her 
blacke eie 135 

And her red cheeke, shee should be quicke and 

stirring 
In this same businesse, ha ? 

Amin. I cannot tell ; 

I nere tried other, sir ; but I perceive 
She is as quicke as you delivered. 

King, Well, youle trust me then, Amintor, to 
choose 140 

A wife for you agen ? 

Amin. No, never, sir. 

King. Why, like you this so ill ? 

Amin. So well I like her. 

For this I bow my knee in thanks to you. 
And unto Heaven will pay my gratefull tribute 
Hourely ; and doe hope we shall draw out 145 

A long contented life together here, 
And die, both full of gray haires, in one day : 
For which the thanks is yours. But if the powers 
That rule us please to call her first away. 
Without pride spoke, this world holds not a 

wife 150 

Worthy to take her roome. 



Scene I.] tE^t ^3^000 WU^tt^^ 59 

King. I doe not like this. — All forbeare the 
roome, 
But you, Amintor, and your lady. 

\_Exeu;it all but the Kingy Amintor y and Evadne.'\ 
I have some speech with you that may concerne 
Your after living well. 155 

Amin. \astde\ . A will not tell me that he lies 
with her ! 
If he doe, something heavenly stay my heart, 
For I shall be apt to thrust this arme of mine 
To acts unlawfull ! 

King. You will suffer me 

To talke with her, Amintor, and not have 160 

A jealous pang ? 

Amin. Sir, I dare trust my wife 

With whom she dares to talke, and not be jeal- 
ous. \Retires.'\ 
King. How doe you like Amintor ? 
Evad. As I did, sir. 
King. Howes that ? 

Evad. As one that, to fulfil your will and 
pleasure, 165 

I have given leave to call me wife and love. 

King. I see there is no lasting faith in sin ; 
They that breake word with Heaven will breake 

agen 
With all the world, and so doest thou with me ? 

165 your will. Qi omits. 



6o Wi^t ^a^Desf tETrageu^ [act m. 

Evad. How, sir? 

King. This subtle womans ignorance 170 

Will not excuse you : thou hast taken oathes, 
So great, methought, they did misbecome 
A womans mouth, that thou wouldst nere injoy 
A man but me. 

Evad. I never did sweare so ; 

You doe me wrong. 

King. Day and night have heard it. 175 

Evad. I swore indeed that I would never love 
/ man of lower place ; but, if your fortune 
Should throw you from this height, I bade you 

trust 
I would forsake you, and would bend to him 
That won your throne : I love with my ambition, 180 
Not with my eies. But, if I ever yet 
Toucht any other, leprosie light here 
Upon my face ! which for your royalty 
I would not staine. 

King. Why, thou dissemblest, and 

It is in me to punish thee. 

Evad. Why, it is in me, 185 

Then, not to love you, which will more afflict 
Your body then your punishment can mine. 

King. But thou hast let Amintor lie with thee. 

Evad. I hannot. 

172 methought, Q3-F. Ql, Q2, that methought. 
misbecome. 23-F. D> B, not well become. 



Scene I] ©^e ^di^titS tBm^tt^^ 6 1 

King. Impudence ! he saies himselfe so. 

Evad. A lies. 

King. A does not. 

Evad. By this light, he does, 190 

Strangely and basely ! and lie prove it so. 
I did not only shun him for a night, 
But told him I would never close with him. 

King. Speake lower; tis false. 

Evad. I am no man 

To answere with a blow; or if I were, i95 

You are the King. But urge [me] not ; tis most 
true. 

King. Doe not I know the uncontrouled 
thoughts 
That youth brings with him when his blood is 

high 
With expectation and desire of that 
He long hath waited for ? Is not his spirit, aoo 
Though he be temperate, of a valiant straine 
As this our age hath knowne ? What could he 

doe. 
If such a suddaine speech had met his blood. 
But ruine thee forever, if he had not kild 

thee ? 
He could not beare it thus : he is as we, 205 

Or any other wrong'd man. 

Evad. It is dissembling. 

196 me, 23. Qi, Qz, omit. 



62 ^^t ^a^ije0 tETraget)^ [act m. 

King. Take him ! farewel j henceforth I am 
thy foe ; 
And what disgraces I can blot thee with, looke 
for. 

Evad. Stay, sir. — Amintor ! — You shall 
heare. — Amintor ! 

Amin. [coming forward] . What, my love ? aio 

Evad. Amintor, thou hast an ingenious look. 
And shouldst be vertuous : it amazeth me 
That thou canst make such base malicious lies. 

Amin. What, my deere wife ? 

Evad. Deere wife ! I doe despise thee. 

Why, nothing can be baser then to sow *i5 

Dissention amongst lovers. 

Amin. Lovers, who ? 

Evad. The King and me. 

Amin. Oh, God ! 

Evad. Who should live long and love with- 
out distast. 
Were it not for such pickthanks as thyselfe. 
Did you lie with me? swearenow,and be punishtazo 
In hell for this. 

Amin. The faithlesse sin I made 

To faire Aspatia is not yet reveng'd ; 
It followes me. — I will not lose a word 

212 shouldst. (^2, should'st. 213 canst. Q2, can'st. 

217 Gody Qz. Later editions change to Heaven, and so through- 
out the play. 223 lose. <^6, F, D, B. gi-Qs, loose. 



Scene I] tCl^e ^^UCfif tKragCD^ 63 

To this vilde woman : but to you, my King, 
The anguish of my soule thrusts out this truth, 225 
Y'are a tyrant ! and not so much to wrong 
An honest man thus, as to take a pride 
In talking with him of it. 

Evad. Now, sir, see 

How loud this fellow lied ! 

Amin, You that can know to wrong, should 
know how men 230 

Must right themselves. What punishment is due 
From me to him that shall abuse my bed ? 
Is it not death ? Nor can that satisfie, 
Unlesse I send your lives through all the land. 
To shew how nobly I have freed myselfe. ^35 

King, Draw not thy sword ; thou know'st I 
cannot feare 
A subjects hand ; but thou shall feele the weight 
Of this, if thou doest rage. 

Amin, The weight of that ! 

If you have any worth, for Heavens sake, thinke 
I feare not swords; for, as you are meere man, 240 
I dare as easily kill you for this deed. 
As you dare thinke to doe it. But there is 
Divinitie about you that strikes dead 
My rising passions : as you are my King, 
I fall before you and present my sword 245 

224 -vilde^ D. Qq, F, wild. 233 /s ;V, Edd. 1778. Qq, F, It is. 
234 //1/ei. Sympson, D, limbs. 



To cut mine owne flesh, if it be your will. 

Alas, I am nothing but a multitude 

Of wa[l]k:ing griefes ! Yet, should I murder 

you, 
I might before the world take the excuse 
Of madnesse : for, compare my injuries, *5o 

And they will well appeare too sad a weight 
For reason to endure. But fall I first 
Amongst my sorrowes, ere my treacherous hand 
Touch holy things ! But why (I know not what 
I have to say) why did you choose out me 255 

To make thus wretched ? There were thou- 
sands, fooles, 
Easie to worke on, and of state enough, 
Within the iland. 

Evad. I would not have a foole; 

It were no credit for me. 

Amin. Worse and worse ! 

Thou that dar*st talke unto thy husband thus, 260 
Professe thyselfe a whore, and, more then so, 
Resolve to be so still ! — It is my fate 
To beare and bowe beneath a thousand griefes, 
To keepe that little credit with the world ! — 
But there were wise ones too ; you might have 

tane 265 

Another. 

248 ivalking : so Qq, except Q2, which misprints, waking. 
256 thousands. Comma inserted by B. F, D, thousand fooles. 



Scene I] ®j|e ^a)?Deflf WUQtl}^ 65 

King. No, for I beleve[cl] thee honest 

As thou wert valiant. 

Amtn. All the happinesse 

BestowM upon me turnes into disgrace. 
Gods, take your honesty againe, for I 
Am loaden with it ! — Good my lord the King, 270 
Be private in it. 

King. Thou maist live, Amintor, 

Free as thy King, if thou wilt winke at this 
And be a meanes that we may meet in secret. 

Amin. A baud ! Hold, hold, my brest ! A 
bitter curse 
Seize me if I forget not all respects 175 

That are religious, on another word 
Sounded like that ; and through a sea of sinnes 
Will wade to my revenge, though I should call 
Paines heere and after life upon my soule ! 

King. Well, I am resolute you lay not with 
her ; 180 

And so I leave you. Exit King. 

Evad. You must needs be prating; 

And see what follows ! 

Amin. Prethe, vex me not. 

Leave me. I am afraid some sudden start 
Will pull a murther on me. 

Evad. I am gone ; 

I love my life well. Exit Evadne, 

266 beleved. Corrected by D. 



66 tB^t ^w^r>tfsi tZTrageD^ [act m. 

Amin. I hate mine as much. ^85 

This tis to breake a troth ! I should be glad 
If all this tide of griefe would make me mad. 

Exit. 



[Scene II. J Room in the Palace. '\ 

Enter Melantius. 

Melantius. He know the cause of all Amintors 
griefes, 
Or friendship shall be idle. 

Enter Calianax. 

Calianax. Oh, Melantius, 

My daughter will die ! 

Mel. Trust me, I am sorry ; 

Would thou hadst tane her roome ! 

Cal. Thou art a slave, 

A cut-throat slave, a bloody treacherous slave ! 

Mel. Take heed, old man ; thou wilt be heard 
to rave. 
And lose thine offices. 

Cal. I am valiant growne 

At all these yeares, and thou art but a slave ! 

Mel. Leave! 
Some company will come, and I respect 
Thy yeares, not thee, so much that I could wish 
To laugh at thee alone. 

Cal. He spoile your mirth : 



Scene II.] W^t ^U^t^tSi WU^tti^ 67 

I meane to fight with thee. There lie, my 

cloake ! 
This was my fathers sword, and he durst fight. 
Are you prepar'd ? 

Me/. Why, wilt thou doate thyselfe 15 

Out of thy life ? Hence, get thee to bed. 
Have carefull looking-to, and eate warme things. 
And trouble not mee : my head is full of thoughts 
More waighty then thy life or death can be. 
Ca/. You have a name in warre, where you 

stand safe ao 

Amongst a multitude ; but I will try 
What you dare doe unto a weake old man 
In single fight. You'le give ground, I feare. 
Come, draw. 

Me/. I will not draw, unlesse thou pulst thy 

death 25 

Upon thee with a stroke. Theres no one blow 
That thou canst give hath strength enough to 

kill me. 
Tempt me not so far, then ; the power of earth 
Shall not redeeme thee. 

Ca/. [aside'^ . I must let him alone ; 

Hees stout and able ; and, to say the truth, 30 

However I may set a face and talke, 
I am not valiant. When I was a youth, 
I kept my credit with a testie tricke 
I had amongst cowards, but durst never fight. 

34 amongst. Ql, mongst. 



68 Wi^t ^a^De0 tETrageU^ [act m. 

Mel. I will not promise to preserve your life, 35 
If you doe stay. 

Cal. \_aside~\, I would give halfe my land 
That I durst fight with that proud man a little. 
If I had men to hold him, I would beate him 
Till he aske me mercy. 

Mel. Sir, wil you be gone ? 

Cal. [aside'] . I dare not stay j but I will goe 
home and beat 4<i 

My servants all over for this. Exit Calianax. 

Mel. This old fellow haunts me. 
But this distracted carriage of mine Amintor 
Takes deepely on me. I will finde the cause : 
I fear his conscience cries, he wrong'd Aspatia. 45 
Enter Amintor. 

Amintor [aside] . Mens eyes are not so sub- 
till to perceive 
My inward miserie : I beare my griefe 
Hid from the world. How art thou wretched 

then ? 
For ought I know, all husbands are like me; 
And every one I talke with of his wife 50 

Is but a well dissembler of his woes, 
As I am. Would I knew it ! for the rarenesse 
Afflicts me now. 

Mel. Amintor, we have not enjoy'd our 

39 aske. Qi, askt. 

54-63 Amintor . . . to mee. As prose Qq, F, B. The orig- 
inal may have been in verse, but its restoration seems impossible. 
Weber and Dyce have made attempts. 



Scene II.] tE^t ^H^HeS? ^XU^tl^^ 69 

friendship of late, for we were wont to change 55 
our soules in talke. 

Jmin. Melantius, I can tell thee a good jest 
of Strato and a lady the last day. 

Mel. How wast ? 

Amin, Why such an odde one ! 60 

Mel, I have longd to speake with you ; not of 
an idle jest that's forc'd, but of matter that you 
are bound to utter to mee. 

Amin. What is that, my friend ? 

Mel. I have observ'd your words fall from 
your tongue 65 

Wildly ; and all your carriage 
Like one that strove to shew his merry mood. 
When he were ill dispos'd : you were not wont 
To put such scorne into your speech, or weare 
Upon your face ridiculous jollitie. 
Some sadnesse sits here, which your cunning 

would 
Cover ore with smiles, and twill not be. What 
is it ? 

Amin. A sadnesse here ! what cause 
Can fate provide for me to make me so ? 
Am I not lov'd through all this isle ? The King 75 

55 change, Th. Qq, F, charge. 

65-66 I have . . . carriage, so Qq, F, B. Edd. 1778 ^/ al. 
end first line, ivords. 

73 ^sadnesse here! what cause. D, A sadnesse here, Melan- 
tius ! what cause. 



70 ^lit ^a^ne0 tETrageU^ [act m. 

Raines greatnesse on me. Have I not received 
A lady to my bed, that in her eie 
Keepes mounting fire, and on her tender cheekes 
Inevitable colour, in her heart 
A prison for all vertue ? Are not you, 80 

Which is above all joyes, my constant friend ? 
What sadnesse can I have ? No ; I am light 
And feele the courses of my bloud more warme 
And stirring than they were. Faith, mary too; 
And you will feel so unexprest a joy 85 

In chaste embraces that you will mdeed 
Appeare another. 

Mel. You may shape, Amintor, 

Causes to cozen the whole world withall. 
And you yourselfe too ; but tis not like a friend 
To hide your soule from me. Tis not your 

nature 9° 

To be thus idle : I have scene you stand 
As you were blasted midst of all your mirth ; 
Call thrice aloud, and then start, faining joy 
So coldly ! — World, what doe I here ? a friend 
Is nothing ! Heaven, I would ha told that man 95 
My secret sinnes ! He search an unknowne 

land. 
And there plant friendship; all is withered. here. 
Come with a complement ! I would have fought, 
Or told my friend a lied, ere soothd him so. 
Out of my bosome ! 100 

79 Inevitable. Ql, immutable. 



Scene IL] ^j^t ^3^000 ^Bm^tt}^ 7 1 

Jmin, But there is nothing. 

Mel. Worse and worse ! farewell. 

From this time have acquaintance, but no friend. 

Jmin. Melantius, stay j you shall know what 
that is. 

Mel. See ; how you plaid with friendship ! be 
advis'd 
How you give cause unto yourselfe to say 105 

You ha lost a friend. 

Jmin. Forgive what I ha done; 

For I am so oregone with injuries 
Unheard of, that I lose consideration 
Of what I ought to doe. — Oh ! — Oh ! 

Mel. Doe not weepe. no 

What ist ? May I once but know the man 
Hath turn'd my friend thus ! 

Jmin. I had spoke at first. 

But that — 

Mel. But what .? 

Jmin. I held it most unfit 

For you to know. Faith, doe not know it yet. 

Mel. Thou seest my love, that will keepe 
company 115 

With thee in teares ; hide nothing, then, from 

me ; 
For when I know the cause of thy distemper, 

104 See; hoiv you plaid. No punctuadon after See in Qq, F. 
B conjectures, See how you play. Qi has plead for plaid. 



72 ®l)e ^a^De0 tEtrageu^ [act m. 

With mine old armour He adorne myselfe, 

My resolution, and cut through thy foes, 

Unto thy quiet, till I place thy heart 120 

As peaceable as spotlesse innocence. 

What is it ? 

Amin. Why, tis this — it is too bigge 
To get out — let my teares make way awhile. 

Mel. Punish me strangely. Heaven, if he es- 
cape 
Of life or fame, that brought this youth to this ! i»5 

Amin. Your sister — 

Mel. Well sayd. 

Amin. You'l wish't unknowne, 

When you have heard it. 

Mel. No. 

Amin. Is much to blame, 

And to the King has given her honour up. 
And lives in whoredome with him. 

Mel. How's this ? 

Thou art run mad with injury indeed; 130 

Thou couldst not utter this else. Speake againe. 
For I forgive it freely; tell thy griefes. 

Amin. Shees wanton ; I am loth to say, a 
whore. 
Though it be true. 

Mel. Speake yet againe, before mine anger grow 135 
Up beyond throwing downe : what are thy 
griefes ? 



Scene II.] tE^^f ^3^000 tE^tageO^ 73 

Amin. By all our friendship, these. 

Mel, What, am I tame? 

After mine actions, shall the name of friend 
Blot all our family, and strike the brand 
Of whore upon my sister, unreveng'd ? 140 

My shaking flesh, be thou a witnesse for me 
With what unwillingnesse I goe to scourge 
This rayler, whom my folly hath cald friend. 
I will not take thee basely : thy sword 

^Draws his swordJ^ 
Hangs neere thy hand ; draw it that I may whip 145 
Thy rashnesse to repentance ; draw thy sword ! 

Amin, Not on thee, did thy anger goe as hie 
As troubled waters. Thou shouldst do me ease 
Here and eternally, if thy noble hand 
Would cut me from my sorrows. 

Mel. This is base 150 

And fearefull. They that use to utter lies 
Provide not blowes but words to qualifie 
The men they wrong'd. Thou hast a guilty 
cause. 

Amin, Thou pleasest me ; for so much more 
like this 
Will raise my anger up above my griefes '55 

(Which is a passion easier to be borne) 
And I shall then be happy. 

139 itrike. Qi, stick. 147 goe. (1^3, swell. 

148 troubled 'waters^ Qi, 22- Q3, D, B, the wilde surges. 



74 tn^^e ^a^Uffl? tHrageu^ [acthi. 

Mel. Take, then, more 

To raise thine anger : tis meere cowardise 
Makes thee not draw ; and I will leave thee 

dead, 
However. But if thou art so much prest i6o 

With guilt and feare as not to dare to fight. 
He make thy memory loath'd and fixe a scandal! 
Upon thy name for ever. 

Amin. Then I draw. 

As justly as our magistrates their swords 
To cut offenders off. I knew before 165 

Twould grate your eares ; but it was base in you 
To urge a waighty secret from your friend 
And then rage at it. I shall be at ease. 
If I be kild ; and, if you fall by me, 
I shall not long outlive you. 

MeL Stay awhile. — 170 

The name of friend is more than family 
Or all the world besides : I was a foole. 
Thou searching humane nature that didst wake 
To doe me wrong, thou art inquisitive. 
And thrusts me upon questions that will take 175 
Mysleepeaway. Would I had died, ere knowne 
This sad dishonour ! — pardon me, my friend. 

\_Sheaths his sword.'\ 
If thou wilt strike, here is a faithfull heart ; 
Pierce it, for I will never heave my hand 
To thine. Behold the power thou hast in me ! 180 



Scene II.] Ql^^e ^3^11^0 ^tU^tt^^ 75 

I doe beleeve my sister is a whore, 

A leprous one. Put up thy sword, young man. 

Jmin. How should I beare it, then, she being 
so ? 
I feare, my friend, that you will lose me shortly, 

^Sbeatbs bis szvord."^ 
And I shall doe a foule act on myselfe, 185 

Through these disgraces. 

Mel, Better halfe the land 

Were buried quick together. No, Amintor, 
Thou shalt have ease. Oh, this adulterous King, 
That drew her too't ! where got he the spirit 
To wrong me so ? 

Amin. What is it, then, to me, 190 

If it be wrong to you ? 

Mel. Why, not so much : 

The credit of our house is throwne away. 
But from his iron den He waken Death, 
And hurle him on this King : my honestie 
Shall Steele my sword ; and on its horrid point 195 
He weare my cause, that shall amaze the eyes 
Of this proud man, and be too glittring 
For him to looke on. 

Amin. I have quite undone my fame. 

MeU Drie up thy watrie eyes, 200 

And cast a manly looke upon my face. 
For nothing is so wilde as I thy friend 
195 '>^, Q3- Si) 2^) my. 



76 tE^t ^a^tie^ tlTrageti^ [actiii. 

Till I have freed thee : still this swelling brest. 
I goe thus from thee, and will never cease 
My vengeance till I finde thy heart at peace. 205 
Jmin. It must not be so. Stay ! Mine eies 
would tell 
How loth I am to this ; but, love and teares. 
Leave me awhile ! for I have hazarded 
All that this world cals happy. — Thou hast 

wrought 
A secret from me, under name of friend, aio 

Which art could nere have found, or torture 

wrung 
From out my bosome. Give it me agen; 
For I will find it where soere it lies. 
Hid in the mortal'st part : invent a way 
To give it backe. 

Mel. Why would you have it backe ?2i5 

I will to death pursue him with revenge. 

Amin. Therefore I call it backe from thee ; 

for I know 

Thy blood so high that thou wilt stir in this, 

And shame me to posterity. Take to thy 

weapon. [Draws his sword.~\ 

Mel. Heare thy friend that beares more yeares 

then thou. azo 

Amtn. I will not heare : but draw, or I — 
Mel. Amintor ! 

205 tby, Q^i. Q2-F, my. 



Scene II.] tE^f^t ^a^Uefi ©tagflll? 77 

Amin. Draw, then : for I am full as resolute 
As fame and honour can inforce me be : 
I cannot linger. Draw ! 

Mel. I doe. But is not 

My share of credit equall with thine, 225 

If I doe stir ? 

Amin. No : for it will be cald 

Honor in thee to spill thy sisters blood. 
If she her birth abuse ; and, on the King 
A brave revenge : but on me, that have walkt 
With patience in it, it will fixe the name 230 

Of fearefuU cuckold. O, that word ! Be quicke ! 

Mel. Then, joyne with me. 

Amin. I dare not doe a sinne, 

Or else I would. Be speedy. 

Mel. Then, dare not fight with me ; for that's 
a sin. — 
His griefe distracts him. — Call thy thoughts 

agen, ^ 235 

And to thyselfe pronounce the name of friend. 
And see what that will worke. I will not fight. 

Amin. You must. 

Mel. [sheathing his sword'\ . I will be kild first. 
Though my passions 
Offered the like to you, tis not this earth 

225 thine. D suggests, thine own. 

232-233 I . . . speedy. The division of lines is by editor. 
Qq, F, D, B, end lines with me^ ivou/d, speedy. 



78 tE^^t ^a^lir0 tETragetJ^ [act m. 

Shall buy my reason to it. Thinke awhile, 240 
For you are (I must weepe when I speake that) 
Almost besides yourselfe. 

Jmin. \jheathing his sword^ . Oh, my soft tem- 
per ! 
So many sweet words from thy sisters mouth, 
I am afraid would make me take her to 
Embrace, and pardon her. I am mad indeed ^45 
And know not what I doe. Yet have a care 
Of me in what thou doest. 

Alel. Why, thinks my friend 

I will forget his honor ? or, to save 
The bravery of our house, will lose his fame. 
And feare to touch the throne of majestic ? *5o 

Jmin. A curse will follow that ; but rather 
live 
And suffer with me. 

Mel. I will doe what worth 

Shall bid me, and no more. 

Jmin. Faith, I am sicke. 

And desperately I hope ; yet, leaning thus, 
I feele a kind of ease. 

Mel. Come, take agen 255 

Your mirth about you. 

Amin. I shall never doo't. 

Mel. I warrant you ; looke up ; weele walke 
together ; 
Put thine arme here j all shall be well agen ? 



Scene II. ] tE^^t ^3^1)00 tKtageD^ 79 

Jmin. Thy love (oh, wretched !) I, thy love, 
Melantius ; 
Why I have nothing else. 

Mei. Be merry then. a6o 

Exeunt. 
Enter Melantius agen. 
Mel. This worthy yong man may doe vio- 
lence 
Upon himselfe, but I have cherisht him 
To my best power, and sent him smiling from 

me, 
To counterfeit againe. Sword, hold thy edge; 
My heart will never faile me. 
Enter Diphilus. 

Diphilus ! 165 

Thou comst as sent. 

Diphilus. Yonder has bin such laughing. 

Mel. Betwixt whom ? 

Diph. Why, our sister and the King. 

I thought their spleenes would breake ; they 

laught us all 
Out of the roome. 

Mel. They must weepe, Diphilus. 
Diph. Must they ? 

Mel. They must. 270 

Thou art my brother ; &, if I did beleeve 

263 To my best poiver^ Q3 et al, (^i, Q2, As well as I could. 
Enter Diphilus. This follows Thou comst as sent, in Q2. 



8o tEClje ^w^tts QTragrU^ [act m. 

Thou hadst a base thought, I would rip it out, 
Lie where it durst. 

Diph. You should not ; I would first 

Mangle myselfe and finde it. 

Mel. That was spoke 

According to our straine. Come, joyne thy 

hands to mine, 275 

And sweare a firmnesse to what project I 
Shall lay before thee. 

Diph. You doe wrong us both : 

People hereafter shall not say there past 
A bond, more than our loves, to tie our lives 
And deaths together. a8o 

MeL It is as nobly said as I would wish. 
Anon He tell you wonders : we are wrong'd. 

Diph. But I will tell you now, weele right 
ourselves. 

Alel. Stay not : prepare the armour in my 
house ; 
And what friends you can draw unto our side, 285 
Not knowing of the cause, make ready too. 
Haste, Diph [ilus] , the time requires it, haste ! — 

Exit Diphilus. 
I hope my cause is just ; I know my blood • 
Tels me it is ; and I will credit it. 
To take revenge, and lose myself withall, 290 

Were idle; and to scape impossible, 

275 to mine. Qi, Th, B, omit. 



Scene il] tE^tje ^a^Uf^ tETrageU^ 8 1 

Without I had the fort, which (miserie ! ) 
Remaining in the hands of my old enemy, 
Calianax — but I must have it. See, 

Enter Calia?iax. 
Where he comes shaking by me ! — Good my 

lord, 295 

Forget your spleene to me ; I never wrong'd you. 
But would have peace with every man. 

Cal. Tis well ; 

If I durst fight, your tongue would lie at quiet. 

Mel. Y'are touchie without all cause. 

Cal. Doe, mocke me. 

Mel. By mine honor, I speake truth. 

Cal. Honor ! where ist ? 300 

Mel. See, what starts you make 
Into your [idle] hatred to my love 
And freedome to you. I come with resolution 
To obtaine a sute of you. 

Cal. A sute of me ! 

Tis very like it should be granted, sir. 305 

Mel. Nay, goe not hence : 
Tis this ; you have the keeping of the fort, 
And I would wish you, by the love you ought 
To beare unto me, to deliver it 
Into my hands. 

Cal. I am in hope thou art mad, 310 

To talke to me thus. 

299 all. Mermaid ed. omits. 302 idle. Only in Qi. 



82 ®t)e ^a^ue0 ®rageD^ [act m. 

MeL But there is a reason 

To move you to it : I would kill the King, 
That wrong'd you and your daughter. 

Cal. Out, traitor ! 

MeL Nay, but stay : I cannot scape, the deed 
once done. 
Without I have this fort. 

Cal. And should I helpe thee? 315 

Now thy treacherous mind betraies itselfe. 

Mel. Come, delay me not ; 
Give me a sudden answere, or already 
Thy last is spoke ! Refuse not offered love 
When it comes clad in secrets. 

Cal. \aside'\ . If I say 320 

I will not, he will kill me ; I doe see't 
Writ in his lookes ; and should I say I will, 
Heele run and tell the King. — I doe not shun 
Your friendship, deere Melantius, but this cause 
Is weighty : give me but an houre to thinke. 3*5 

Mel. Take it. — \^Aside^ I know this goes 
unto the King; 
But I am arm'd. Exit Melantius. 

Cal. Methinks I feele myselfe 

But twenty now agen. This fighting foole 
Wants policie : I shall revenge my girle. 
And make her red againe. I pray my legges 33° 
Will last that pace that I will carry them ; 
I shall want breath before I find the King. 

Exit. 



Actus Quartus. 
[Scene I. Jn Apartment of EvadneA 
Enter Melantiusy Evadne, and a Lady. 

Melantius. Save you 

Evadne, Save you, sweet brother. 

Mel. In my blunt eie, methinks, you looke, 
Evadne — 

Evad. Come, you would make me blush. 

Mel. I would, Evadne ; 

I shall displease my ends else. 

Evad. You shall, if you 

Commend me; I am bashfull. Come, sir, how 

doe 
I looke ? 

Mel. I would not have your women heare me 
Break into commendations of you ; tis not 
Seemely. 

Evad. Goe waite me in the gallery. 

Exeunt Ladies. 
Now speake. 

Mel. He locke the dore first. 

Evad. Why ? 

5 Commend, ^q, Command. Corrected by Th. 

Exeunt Ladies, gq, F, print this after the dore first. The in- 
consistency between Ladies and a Lady at the opening of the act 
has been corrected by modern editors. 



84 tE'^t ^a^De0 tErageD^ [act iv. 

Alel. I will not have your guilded things, that 
dance lo 

In visitation with their Millan skins, 
Choake up my businesse. 

Evad. You are strangely disposM, sir. 

Mel. Good madame, not to make you merry. 
Evad. No, if you praise me, twill make me 

sad. 
Mel. Such a sad commendation I have for 

you. 15 

Evad. Brother, 
The court has made you wittie, and learne to 
riddle. 
Mel. I praise the court for't : has it learnd 

you nothing ? 
Evad. Me! 

Mel. I, Evadne, thou art young and han- 
some, 
A lady of a sweet complexion, 20 

And such a flowing carriage that it cannot 
Chuse but inflame a kingdome. 

Evad. Gentle brother ! 

Mel. Tis yet in thy repentance, foolish 
woman. 
To make me gentle. 

Evad. How is this ? 

Mel. Tis base, 

15 commendation, Q6. ^2, commendations. 



Scene L] tETtje ^3^000 ^m%tt>^ 85 

And I could blush at these yeeres, through all 25 
My honord scars, to come to such a parly. 
Evad, I understand ye not. 
Mel. You dare not, foole ! 

They that commit thy faults flie the remem- 
brance. 
Evad. My faults, sir! I would have you 
know, I care not 
If they were written here, here in my forehead. 30 

Mel. Thy body is too little for the story ; 
The lusts of which would fill another woman, 
Though she had twins within her. 

Evad. This is saucie : 

Looke you intrude no more. There [lies] your 
way. 
MeL Thou art my way, and I will tread upon 
thee, 35 

Till I find truth out. 

Evad. What truth is that you looke for ? 

Mel. Thy long-lost honour. Would the gods 
had set mee 
Rather to grapple with the plague, or stand 
One of their loudest bolts ! Come, tell me 

quickly ; 
Doe it without inforcement, and take heed 40 

You swell me not above my temper. 

25 through. Q3, thorough. 

34 There lies, Q3. Qi, Q2, Thercs. 



86 Wf^t ^a^urs? ®raget)^ [act iv. 

Evad. How sir ! 

Where got you this report ? 

Mel. Where there was people, 

In every place. 

Evad. They and the seconds of it 

Are base people ; beleeve them not ; they lied. 
Mel. Do not play with mine anger ; doe not, 
wretch ! 45 

I come to know that desperate foole that drew 

thee 
From thy faire life : be wise and lay him open. 
Evad. Unhand me, and learne manners ! such 
another 
Forgetfulnesse forfets your life. 

Mel. Quench me this mighty humour, and 

then tell me 50 

Whose whore you are; for you are one, I know it. 
Let all mine honors perish but He find him. 
Though he lie lockt up in thy bloud ! Be sudden ; 
There is no facing it ; and be not flattered ; 
The burnt aire where the Dog raignes is not 

fouler 55 

Than thy contagious name, till thy repentance 
(If the gods grant thee any) purge thy sicknesse. 
Evad. Begone ! you are my brother ; thats 

your safety. 
Mel. He be a wolfe first : tis, to be thy brother. 
An infamy below the sinne of coward. 60 



Scene I.] tE^^e ^3^000 tBtdi^m ^7 

I am as far from being part of thee 

As thou art from thy vertue : seeke a kindred 

Mongst sensuall beasts, and make a goat thy 

brother ; 
A goat is cooler. Will you tell me yet ? 

Evad. If you stay here and raile thus, I shall 

tell you 65 

He ha you whipt. Get you to your command. 
And there preach to your centinels, and tell them 
What a brave man you are : I shall laugh at you. 
MeL Y'are growne a glorious whore ! Where 

be your fighters ? 
What mortall foole durst raise thee to this 

daring, 70 

And I alive ! By my just sword, h'ad safer 
Bestrid a billow when the angry North 
Plowes up the sea, or made Heavens fire his foe ! 
Worke me no hier. Will you discover yet ? 
Evad. The fellowes mad. Sleepe, and speake 

sense. 75 

MeL Force my swolne heart no further : I 

would save thee. 
Your great maintainers are not here ; they dare 

not : 
Would they were all, and armed ! I would 

speake loud : 

72 Bestrid. Q2, Bestride. 73 foe. Only in Qi. Q2, food. 
76-85 Force . . . canker. Prose in gq and F. 



88 ®^e ^a^ues; tE^rageii^ [act iv. 

Heres one should thunder to 'em ! Will you tell 

me ? — 
Thou hast no hope to scape : he that dares most 8c 
And dams away his soule to doe thee service, 
Will sooner snatch meat from a hungry lyon 
Then come to rescue thee ; thou hast death 

about thee — 
Has undone thine honour, poyson'd thy vertue, 
And, of a lovely rose, left thee a canker. 85 

Evad, Let me consider. 
Mel. Doe, whose childe thou wert. 

Whose honour thou hast murdered, whose grave 

opened. 
And so pul'd on the gods that in their justice 
They must restore him flesh agen and life. 
And raise his dry bones to revenge this scandall. 90 
Evad. The gods are not of my minde ; they 

had better 
Let 'em lie sweet still in the earth ; they'l stinke 

here. 
Mel. Doe you raise mirth out of my easinesse ? 
Forsake me, then, all weaknesses of nature. 
That make men women! Speake, you whore, 

speake truth, 95 

Or, by the deare soule of thy sleeping father. 
This sword shall be thy lover ! Tell, or He kill 

thee; 
And, when thou hast told all, thou wilt deserve it. 

84 Hai. F, H'as ; D, He has. 



Scene L] ^^0 ^a^De0 ^tn^tt}^ 89 

Evad, You will not murther me ? 

MeL No ; tis a justice, and a noble one, 100 
To put the light out of such base offenders. 

Evad. Helpe ! 

MeL By thy foule selfe, no humane helpe 
shal help thee, 
If thou criest ! When I have kild thee, as I 
Have vow^'d to doe, if thou confesse not, naked 105 
As thou hast left thine honor, will I leave thee. 
That on thy branded flesh the world may read 
Thy blacke shame and my justice. Wilt thou 
bend yet ? 

Evad. Yes. 

Mel. Up, and begin your storie. 

Evad. Oh, I am miserable ! no 

Mel. Tis true, thou art. Speake truth still. 

Evad. I have offended : noble sir, forgive me ! 

Mel. With what secure slave ? 

Evad. Doe not ask me, sir; 

Mine owne remembrance is a miserie 
Too mightie for me. 

Mel. Do not fall back agen ; 115 

My sword's unsheathed yet. 

Evad. What shall I doe ? 

Mel. Be true, and make your fault lesse. 

Evad. I dare not tell. 

Mel. Tell, or He be this day a-killing thee. 

Evad. Will you forgive me, then ? 



90 XE^^t ^pa^Des; tD^rageu^ [act iv. 

Mel. Stay ; I must aske mine honor first. 120 
I have too much foolish nature in me. Speake. 
Evad. Is there none else here ? 
Mel. None but a fearefull conscience ; thats 
too many. 
Who ist ? 

Evad. Oh, heare me gently ! It was the 

King. 
Mel. No more. My worthy fathers and my 
services i*5 

Are liberally rewarded ! King, I thanke thee ! 
For all my dangers and my wounds thou hast 

paid me 
In my owne metall : these are souldiers 

thanks! — 
How long have you lived thus, Evadne ? 

Evad. Too long. 

Mel. Too late you find it. Can you be sorry ? 130 
Evad. Would I were halfe as blamelesse ! 
Mel. Evadne, thou wilt to thy trade againe. 
Evad. First to my grave. 
Mel. Would gods thou hadst beene so 

blest ! 
Dost thou not hate this King now ? prethe hate 
him. 

129-130 Too . . . sorry. 

Qi, E'vad. Too long, too late I finde it. 
Mel. Can you be very sorry ? 



Scene I.] tE^tje ^3^1)00 tCtageU^ 9^ 

Could'st thou not curse him ? I command thee, 

curse him ; i35 

Curse till the gods heare, and deliver him 
To thy just wishes. Yet I feare, Evadne, 
You had rather play your game out. 

Evad. No ; I feele 

Too many sad confusions here, to let in 
Any loose flame hereafter. 140 

Mel. Dost thou not feele amongst all those, 
one brave anger 
That breakes out nobly and directs thine arme 
To kill this base King ? 

Evad. All the gods forbid it ! 

Mel. No, all the gods require it ! 
They are dishonored in him. 

Evad. Tis too fearefull. 145 

Mel. Y'are valiant in his bed, and bold 
enough 
To be a stale whore, and have your madams 

name 
Discourse for groomes and pages ; and hereafter. 
When his coole majestie hath laid you by. 
To be at pension with some needie sir 150 

For meat and courser cloathes ; thus far you 

know 
No feare. Come, you shall kill him. 

135 Could \t thou not curse him f Qi , Has sunke thy faire soule. 
151 knonv. Qi, had. ^3, knew. 



92 tETJie ^a^De0 ®rageu^ [act iv. 

Evad, Good sir [ 

Mel. An twere to kisse him dead, thoudst 

smoother him : 
Be wise, and kill him. Canst thou live, and 

know 
What noble minds shall make thee, see thyselfe»55 
Found out with every finger, made the shame 
Of all successions, and in this great ruine 
Thy brother and thy noble husband broken ? 
Thou shalt not live thus. Kneele and sweare to 

helpe me. 
When I shall call thee to it; or, by all i6o 

Holy in Heaven and earth, thou shalt not live 
To breath a full houre longer ; not a thought ! 
Come, tis a righteous oath. Give me thy 

hand[s]. 
And, both to Heaven held up, swear, by that 

wealth 
This lustfull theefe stole from thee, when I say it, 165 
To let his foule soule out. 

Evad. Here I sweare it ; ^Kneeh^ 

And, all you spirits of abused ladies, 
Helpe me in this performance ! 

Mel. [raising her^ . Enough ! This must be 

knowne to none 
But you and I, Evadne, not to your lord, 170 

155 make thee, see thy self e. Qz, make thee see thyselfe. 
163 handsy Edd. 1778. 



Scene I] ^^t ^3^1)^0 ^tU^th^ 93 

Though he be wise and noble, and a fellow 
Dares step as farre into a worthy action 
As the most daring, I, as farre as justice. 
Aske me not why. Farewell. Exii Mel[antius'\ . 
Evad. Would I could say so to my blacke 
disgrace ! 175 

Oh, where have I beene all this time ? how 

friended 
That I should lose myselfe thus desperately, 
And none for pittie shew me how I wandred ? 
There is not in the compasse of the light 
A more unhappy creature : sure I am mon- 
strous ; 180 
For I have done those follies, those mad mis- 

chiefes. 
Would dare a woman. Oh, my loaden soule, 
Be not so cruell to me ; choake not up 
The way to my repentance ! 

Enter Amintor. 

Oh, my lord ! 
Amin. How now ? 

Evad. My much abused lord ! \Kneels^ 
Amin. This cannot be ! 185 

Evad. I doe not kneele to live ; I dare not 
hope it ; 
The wrongs I did are greater. Looke upon me. 
Though I appeare with all my faults. 

Enter Amintor. In Q2 this follows 1. 1 83. 



94 ^¥ ^a^De0 ©rageu^ [act iv. 

Jmin, Stand up. 

This is a new way to beget more sorrow : 
Heaven knowes I have too many. Doe not 

mocke me : 190 

Though I am tame and bred up with my 

wrongs, 
Which are my foster-brothers, I may leape, 
Like a hand-wolf, into my naturall wildnesse, 
And doe an outrage : prethee, doe not mocke me. 

Evad. My whole life is so leaprous, it infects 19s 
All my repentance. I would buy your pardon, 
Though at the highest set, even with my life : 
That sleight contrition, that['s] no sacrifice 
For what I have committed. 

Amin. Sure, I dazle : 

There cannot be a faith in that foule woman, 200 
That knowes no god more mighty than her 

mischiefes. 
Thou doest still worse, still number on thy faults, 
To presse my poore heart thus. Can I beleeve 
Theres any seed of vertue in that woman 
Left to shoot up, that dares goe on in sinne, 205 
Knowne, and so knowne as thine is ? Oh, 

Evadne ! 
Would there were any safetie in thy sex, 

189 a. Only in Qi, ^2, no. sorroiv. (^i, sorrows. 
198 that''s no, ^^6-8. Qi, Qz, that ; no. Q3, Q4, thats j no. 
Q5, thats no. 



Scene I] ^\)t £^3^000 tE^ragCD^ 95 

That I might put a thousand sorrowes ofF, 
And credit thy repentance ! but I must not. 
Thou hast brought me to that dull calamitie, 210 
To that strange misbeleefe of all the world 
And all things that are in it, that I feare 
I shall fall like a tree, and find my grave. 
Only remembring that I grieve. 

Evad. My lord. 

Give me your griefes ; you are an innocent, 215 
A soule as white as Heaven ; let not my sinnes 
Perish your noble youth. I doe not fall here 
To shadow by dissembling with my teares 
(As all say women can) or to make lesse 
What my hot will hath done, which Heaven & 

you Z20 

Knowes to be tougher than the hand of time 
Can cut from mans remembrance; no, I doe 

not; 
I doe appeare the same, the same Evadne, 
Drest in the shames I liv'd in, the same mon- 
ster. 
But these are names of honour to what I am j 225 
I doe present myself the foulest creature. 
Most poisonous, dangerous, and despisde of men, 
Lerna ere bred or Nilus. I am hell. 
Till you, my deare lord, shoot your light into me, 
The beames of your forgivenesse ; 1 am soule- 

sicke, 230 



96 W^t ^aplie0 ®rageti^ [act iv. 

And wither with the feare of one condemned. 

Till I have got your pardon. 

Jmin. Rise, Evadne ; 

Those heavenly powers that put this good into 
thee 

Grant a continuance of it ! I forgive thee ; 

Make thyselfe worthy of it, and take heed, 235 

Take heed, Evadne, this be serious. 

Mocke not the powers above that can and dare 

Give thee a great example of their justice 

To all insuing eies, if thou plai'st 

With thy repentance, the best sacrifice. 240 

Evad. I have done nothing good to win be- 
leefe. 

My life hath been so faithlesse. All the crea- 
tures. 

Made for Heavens honors, have their ends, 
and good ones. 

All but the cousening crocodiles, false women : 

They reigne here like those plagues, those kill- 
ing sores, 245 

Men pray against \ and when they die, like tales 

111 told and unbeleev'd, they passe away. 

And goe to dust forgotten. But, my lord. 

Those short daies I shall number to my rest 

(As many must not see me) shall, though too 

late, 250 

239 eies. W, D, B, ages. 



Scene I] ®|^e ^3^1300 ^tU^tXi^ 97 

Though in my evening, yet perceive a will. 
Since I can doe no good, because a woman. 
Reach constantly at something that is neere it : 
I will redeeme one minute of my age. 
Or, like another Niobe, He weepe 255 

Till I am water. 

Jmin. I am now dissolved ; 

My frozen soule melts. May each sin thou hast 
Finde a new mercy ! Rise ; I am at peace. 
Hadst thou beene thus, thus excellently good. 
Before that devill-king tempted thy frailty, 260 

Sure thou hadst made a star. Give me thy hand : 
From this time I will know thee ; and, as far 
As honor gives me leave, be thy Amintor. 
When we meet next, I will salute thee fairely. 
And pray the gods to give thee happy daies ; 265 
My charity shall goe along with thee. 
Though my embraces must be far from thee. 
I should ha' kild thee, but this sweet repentance 
Lockes up my vengeance ; for which thus I kisse 

thee — 
The last kisse we must take : and would to 

Heaven 270 

The holy priest that gave our hands together 
Had given us equall vertues ! Goe, Evadne ; 
The gods thus part our bodies. Have a care 
My honour falles no farther : I am well, then. 
Evad. All the deare joys here, and above 

hereafter, 275 



98 W^t ^a^Defif tETrageD^ [act iv. 

Crowne thy faire soule ! Thus I take leave, my 

lord ; 
And never shall you see the foule Evadne, 
Till she have tried all honoured meanes that may 
Set her in rest and wash her staines away. 

Exeunf, 

[Scene II. J hail in the Palace.] 
Banquet. Enter King, Calianax. Hobo'^es play within. 

King. I cannot tell how I should credit this 
From you that are his enemie. 

Calianax. I am sure 

He said it to me ; and He justifie it 
What way he dares oppose — but with my 
sword. 

King. But did he breake, without all circum- 
stance, 
To you, his foe, that he would have the fort, 
To kill me and then scape \ 

Cal. If he denie it. 

He make him blush. 

King. It sounds incredibly. 

Cal. I, so does everything I say of late. 

King. Not so, Calianax. 

Cal. Yes, I should sit 

Mute, whilst a rogue with strong armes cuts 
your throat. 



Scene II.] ^ije ^3^1)00 ®rageD^ 99 

King. Well, I will trie him j and, if this be 
true, 
He pawn my life He find it ; if 't be false 
And that you cloath your hate in such a lie. 
You shall hereafter doate in your owne house, 15 
Not in the court. 

Cal. Why, if it be a lie, 

Mine eares are false, for He be sworne I heard 

it. 
Old men are good for nothing : you were best 
Put me to death for hearing, and free him 
For meaning it. You would a trusted me 20 

Once, but the time is altered. 

King. And will still, 

Where I may doe with justice to the world ; 
You have no witnesse. 

Cal. Yes, myselfe. 

King. No more, 

I meane, there were that heard it. 

Cal. How ? no more ! 

Would you have more ? why, am not I enough 25 
To hang a thousand rogues ? 

King. But so you may 

Hang honest men too, if you please. 

Cal. I may ! 

Tis like I will doe so : there are a hundred 
Will sweare it for a need too, if I say it — 

Lore. 



100 tE^t ^a^ije0 ®rageti^ [act iv. 

King. Such witnesses we need not. 
Cal. And tis hard 30 

If my word cannot hang a boisterous knave. 
King. Enough. — Where's Strato ? 

EnUr Sirat^o'j. 
Strato. Sir ? 

King. Why, wheres all the company ? Call 
Amintor in ; 
Evadne. Wheres my brother and Melantius ? 
Bid him come too, and Diphilus. Call all 35 

That are without there. — (Exit Strat\_o'j.) If 

he should desire 
The combat of you, tis not in the power 
Of all our lawes to hinder it, unlesse 
We meane to quit 'em. 

Cal. Why, if you doe thinke 

Tis fit an old man and a counsellor 4© 

To fight for what he sales, then you may grant it. 
Enter Amint[or~\y Evad\ne]y Melant\jus]y Diph- 
[ilus], Lisip\_pus]y Cle\on'\y Stra\jo, and~\ 
Diag \oras\ . 
King. Come, sirs ! — Amintor, thou art yet a 
bridegroome. 
And I will use thee so ; thou shalt sit downe. — 
Evadne, sit ; — and you, Amintor, too ; 
This banquet is for you, sir. — Who has brought 45 
A merry tale about him to raise laughter 

Enter Strato. In Qz this follows Sir. 



Scene II.] tE^f^t ^3^000 tBtU^t^^ lOI 

Amongst our wine ? Why, Strato, where art 

thou ? 
Thou wilt chop out with them unseasonably, 
When I desire 'em not. 

Stra. Tis my ill lucke, sir, so to spend them, 
then. 50 

King. Reach me a boule of wine. — Melan- 
tius, thou 
Art sad. 

[^Afelantius.~\ I should be, sir, the merriest here, 
But I ha nere a story of mine own 
Worth telling at this time. 

King. Give me the wine. — 

Melantius, I am now considering 55 

How easie twere for any man we trust 
To poyson one of us in such a boule. 

Afel. I thinke it were not hard, sir, for a 
knave. 

Ca/. ^astde~\. Such as you are. 

King. I faith, twere easie. It becomes us 
well 60 

To get plaine dealing men about ourselves ; 
Such as you all are here. — Amintor, to thee; 
And to thy faire Evadne. 

Mel. {aside). Have you thought 

Of this, Calianax ? 

Cal. Yes, marry, have I. 

52 Melantius. Only Qi. Q2-F, Amin. 



102 tB\)t ^a^ue0 tEPrageu^ [act iv. 

Mel. And whats your resolution ? 

Cai. Ye shall have it — 65 

[Aside.~\ Soundly, I warrant you. 

King. Reach to Amintor, Strato. 

Amintor. Here, my love : 

\_Drinksy and hands the cup to Evadne.'\ 
This wine will doe thee wrong, for it will set 
Blushes upon thy cheekes ; and, till thou dost 
A fault, twere pitty. 

King. Yet I wonder much 70 

[At] the strange desperation of these men 
That dare attempt such acts here in our state : 
He could not scape that did it. 

Mel. Were he knowne, 

Unpossible. 

King. It would be knowne, Melantius. 

Mel. It ought to be. If he got then away, 75 
He must weare all our lives upon his sword : 
He need not flie the island ; he must leave 
No one alive. 

King. No; I should thinke no man 

Could kill me and scape cleare, but that old man. 

Cal. But I ! Heaven blesse me ! I ! should 

I, my liege ? 80 

King. I doe not think thou wouldst, but yet 
thou mightst. 
For thou hast in thy hands the meanes to scape, 

71 At, Th-B. Qq, F, Of. 



Scene II.] ^^t ^^a^tie^ WU^t^^ IO3 

By keeping of the fort. — He has, Melantius, 
And he has kept it well. 

Afe/. From cobwebs, sir; 

Tis clean swept: I can find no other art 85 

In keeping of it now : twas nere besieg'd 
Since he commanded. 

Ca/. I shall be sure 

Of your good word: but I have kept it safe 
From such as you. 

Afel. Keepe your ill temper in ; 

I speake no malice ; had my brother kept it, 90 
I should ha sed as much. 

King. You are not merry. 

Brother, drinke wine. Sit you all still ? — (^Jside) 

Calianax, 
I cannot trust this ; 1 have throwne out words. 
That would have fetcht warme blood upon the 

cheekes 
Of guilty men, and he is never mov'd ; 95 

He knowes no such thing. 

Cal. Impudence may scape. 

When feeble vertue is accus'd. 

King. A must. 

If he were guilty, feele an alteration 
At this our whisper, whilst we point at him : 
You see he does not. 

Cal. Let him hang himselfe ; 100 

What care I what he does ? this he did say. 

93 this, D. Qq, F, thus. 



104 ^^t ^a^tie0 tETrageti^ [act iv. 

King. Melan [tius] , you can easily conceive 
What I have meant ; for men that are in fault 
Can subtly apprehend when others aime 
At what they doe amisse : but I forgive 105 

Freely before this man, — Heaven doe so too! 
I will not touch thee, so much as with shame 
Of telling it. Let it be so no more. 

Cai. Why, this is very fine ! 

Mei. I cannot tell 

What tis you meane ; but I am apt enough no 
Rudely to thrust into [an] ignorant fault. 
But let me know it : happily tis nought 
But misconstruction ; and, where I am cleare, 
I will not take forgivenesse of the gods, 
Much less of you. 

King. Nay, if you stand so stifFe, 115 

I shall call back my mercy. 

Mel. I want smoothnes 

To thanke a man for pardoning of a crime 
I never knew. 

King. Not to instruct your knowledge, but 
to show you 
My eares are everywhere ; you meant to kill me, 120 
And get the fort to scape. 

Mel. Pardon me, sir; 

My bluntnesse will be pardoned. You preserve 
A race of idle people here about you, 

III an. Inserted by Th. 



Scene II.] ®^e ^n^tit& tETrageD^ 105 

Facers and talkers, to defame the worth 

Of those that doe things worthy. The man that 

uttered this 1^5 

Had perisht without food, bee't who it will, 
But for this arme, that fenst him from the foe : 
And if I thought you gave a faith to this. 
The plainnesse of my nature would speake more. 
Give me a pardon (for you ought to doo't) 13° 

To kill him that spake this. 

Cal. [aside] . I, that will be 

The end of all ; then I am fairely paide 
For all my care and service. 

Mel That old man, 

Who cals me enemy, and of whom I 
(Though I will never match my hate so low) 135 
Have no good thought, would yet, I thinke, 

excuse me. 
And sweare he thought me wrong'd in this. 

Cal. Who, I ? 

Thou shamelesse fellow ! didst thou not speake 

to me 
Of it thyselfe ? 

Mel. O, then it came from him ! 

Cal. From me ! who should it come from but 
from me ? 140 

Mel, Nay, I beleeve your malice is enough : 
But I ha lost my anger. — Sir, I hope 
You are well satisfied. 

124 Facer Sy Qi. Qx et al., Eaters. 



io6 ®|)e ^a^De0 QPragrD^ [act iv. 

King. Lisip [pus] , cheare 

Amintor & his lady : theres no sound 
Comes from you; I will come and doo't myselfe. 145 

Amin, You have done already, sir, for me, I 
thanke you. 

King. Melantius, I doe credit this from him. 
How sleight so ere you mak't. 

Mel. Tis strange you should. 

Cal. Tis strange a should beleeve an old 
mans word 
That never lied ins life ! 

Mel. I talke not to thee. — 150 

Shall the wilde words of this distempered man, 
Franticke with age and sorrow, make a breach 
Betwixt your majestie and me ? Twas wrong 
To harken to him; but to credit him. 
As much at least as I have power to beare. 155 
But pardon me, (whilst I speake onely truth, 
I may commend myselfe) I have bestowd 
My carelesse blood with you, and should be loth 
To thinke an action that would make me lose 
That and my thankes too. When I was a boy, 160 
I thrust myselfe into my countries cause 
And did a deed that pluckt five yeares from time , ^ 
And stil'd me man then. And for you, my King; -^ 
Your subjects all have fed by vertue of 
My arme; this sword of mine hath plowd the 

ground 165 



Scene II] tE^^f ^3^0(0 ®rageD^ IO7 

And reapt the fruit in peace ; 

And you yourselfe have liv'd at home in ease. 

So terrible I grew, that without swords 

My name hath fetcht you conquest : and my heart 

And limmes are still the same, my will as great 170 

To doe you service. Let me not be paid 

With such a strange distrust. 

King. Melant [ius] , 

I held it great injustice to beleeve 
Thine enemie, and did not ; if I did, 
I doe not; let that satisfie. — What, strucke 175 
With sadnesse all ? More wine ! 

Cal. A few fine words 

Have overthrowne my truth. Ah, th'art a vil- 
laine ! 

Mel. {aside). Why, thou wert better let me 
have the fort : 
Dotard, I will disgrace thee thus for ever; 
There shall no credit lie upon thy words : 180 

Thinke better, and deliver it. 

Cal. My leige, 

Hees at me now agen to doe it. — Speake ; 
Denie it, if thou canst. — Examine him 
Whilst he is hot, for if hee coole agen, 
He will forsweare it. 

King. This is lunacie, 185 

I hope, Melantius. 

177 Ah, F. Qq, A. 



io8 turtle ^a^uesf ®rageu^ [act iv. 

Mel, He hath lost himselfe 

Much, since his daughter mist the happinesse 
My sister gaind ; and, though he call me foe, 
I pittie him. 

Cal. Pittie ! a pox upon you ! 

Mel. Marke his disordered words : and at the 
maske '9° 

Diagoras knows he rag'd and raild at me, 
And cald a lady " whore,'* so innocent 
She understood him not. But it becomes 
Both you and me too to forgive distraction : 
Pardon him, as I doe. 

Cal. He not speake for thee, ^95 

For all thy cunning. — If you will be safe. 
Chop off his head, for there was never knowne 
So impudent a rascall. 

King. Some that love him 

Get him to bed. Why, pittie should not let 
Age make itselfe contemptible ; wee must be 200 
All old. Have him away. 

Mel. ^aside~\. Calianax, 

The King beleeves you; come, you shall go home 
And rest ; you ha done well. Youle give it up 
When I have us'd you thus a month, I hope. 

Cal, Now, now, tis plaine, sir; he does 
move me still : 205 

189 Pittie. (^2, A pittie. 191 Diagoras . . . at me. Ql, 
Qi, print Mel. before this line. 



Scene II. ] tE^j^e ^a^Ufsf tETtageu^ 109 

He saies he knowes He give him up the fort, 
When he has usd me thus a month. I am mad, 
Am I not, still ? 

Omnes. Ha, ha, ha ! 

Cal. I shall be mad indeed, if you doe thus. 
Why should you trust a sturdie fellow there 210 
(That has no vertue in him, als in his sword) 
Before me ? Doe but take his weapons from 

him, 
And hees an asse ; and I am a very foole. 
Both with him and without him, as you use me. 

Omnes. Ha, ha, ha ! 215 

King. Tis well, Cal[ianax] : but if you use 
This once agen, I shall intreat some other 
To see your offices be well discharg'd. — 
Be merry, gentlemen. — It growes somewhat 

late. — 
Amintor, thou wouldst be a-bed agen. 220 

Amin. Yes, sir. 

King. And you, Evadne. — Let me take 

Thee in my armes, Melantius, & beleeve 
Thou art, as thou deservest to be, my friend 
Still and for ever. — Good Cal[ianax], 
Sleepe soundly ; it will bring thee to thyselfe. 225 
Exeunt omnes. Manent Mel[antius] ^ Ca/\_ianax] . 

Cal. Sleepe soundly ! I sleepe soundly now, 
I hope ; 
214 with him and without him. D, B, with 'em and without 'em. 



1 1 o ®l)e ^pa^Dest tlTrageu^ [act iv. 

I could not be thus else. — How dar'st thou 

stay 
Alone with me, knowing how thou hast used me ? 

MeL You cannot blast me with your tongue, 
and thats 
The strongest part you have about you. 

CaL I 230 

Doe looke for some great punishment for this ; 
For I begin to forget all my hate, 
And tak't unkindly that mine enemie 
Should use me so extraordinarily scurvily. 

Mel. I shall melt too, if you begin to take 235 
Unkindnesses : I never meant you hurt. 

CaL Thoult anger me agen. Thou wretched 
roague. 
Meant me no hurt ! disgrace me with the King ! 
Lose all my offices ! This is no hurt. 
Is it ? I prethee, what dost thou call hurt ? 240 

MeL To poyson men, because they love me 
not; 
To call the credit of mens wives in question ; 
To murder children betwixt me and land ; 
This I call hurt. 

CaL All this thou thinkst is sport, 

For mine is worse ; but use thy will with me, 245 
For betwixt griefe and anger I could crie. 

MeL Be wise, then, and be safe ; thou mai'st 
revenge — 



Scene II.] ©tlf ^3^1100 tRXn^tH^ 1 1 1 

Ca/, I, o th' King. I would revenge of thee. 

Mel. That you must plot yourselfe. 

Cal. I am a fine plotter. 

MeL The short is, I will hold thee with the 
King 250 

In this perplexity, till peevishnesse 
And thy disgrace have laid thee in thy grave : 
But if thou wilt deliver up the fort. 
He take thy trembling body in piy armes, 
And beare thee over dangers : thou shalt hold 255 
Thy wonted state. 

Cal. If I should tell the King, 

Canst thou deni't agen .? 

Afei. Trie, and beleeve. 

Cal. Nay, then, thou canst bring anything 
about. 
[Melantius] , thou shalt have the fort. 

MeL Why, well. 

Here let our hate be buried ; and this hand 260 
Shall right us both. Give me thy aged brest 
To compasse. 

Cal. Nay, I doe not love thee yet ; 

I cannot well endure to looke on thee ; 
And if I thought it were a curtesie. 
Thou shouldst not have it. But I am disgrac't ; 265 
My offices are to be taen away ; 
And if I did but hold this fort a day, 

259 Melantius. Only Qi. 



1 1 2 turtle ^a^De0 ©rageu^ [act iv. 

I doe beleeve the King would take it from me, 
And give it thee, things are so strangely carried. 
Nere thanke me for't ; but yet the King shall 

know 27w 

There was some such thing in't I told him of, 
And that I was an honest man. 

MeL Heele buy 

That knowledge very deerely. 
Enter Diphilus. 

Diph [ilus] , 
What newes with thee? 

Diphilus. This were a night indeed 

To doe it in ; the King hath sent for her. 275 

Mel. Shee shall performe it, then. — Goe, 
Diph [ilus], 
And take from this good man, my worthy friend, 
The fort ; heele give it thee. 

Diph. Ha you got that ? 

Cal. Art thou of the same breed ? Canst thou 
denie 
This to the King too ? 

Diph. With a confidence 280 

As great as his. 

Cal. Faith, like enough. 

Mel. Away, and use him kindly. 

Cal. Touch not me; 

I hate the whole straine. If thou follow me 
A great way off, He give thee up the fort ; 
And hang yourselves. 



Scene II.] ^\)t ^3^1)00 tCrageU^ 1 1 3 

Mel. Begone ! 

Diph. Hees finely wrought. 285 

Exeunt Cal\_ianax and~\ Diph \_i/us] . 

Mel. This is a night, spight of astronomers, 
To doe the deed in. I will wash the staine 
That rests upon our house ofF with his bloud. 
Enter Amintor. 

Amin. Melantius, now assist me ; if thou 
beest 
That which thou saist, assist me. I have lost 290 
All my distempers and have found a rage 
So pleasing. Helpe me ! 

Mel. [aside"] . Who can see him thus, 

And not sweare vengeance ? — Whats the mat- 
ter, friend ? 

Amin. Out with thy sword ; and, hand in 
hand with mee. 
Rush to the chamber of this hated King, 295 

And sinke him with the weight of all his sinnes 
To hell for ever. 

Mel. Twere a rash attempt, 

Not to be done with safety. Let your reason 
Plot your revenge, and not your passion. 

Amin. If thou refusest me in these extremes, 300 
Thou art no friend. He sent for her to me ; 
By Heaven, to me, myselfe ! and, I must tell 

ye, 

I love her as a stranger : there is worth 



1 14 tKtje ^a^ueflf ©rageu^ [act iv. 

In that vild woman, worthy things, Melantius, 
And she repents. He doo't myselfe alone, 305 

Though I be slaine. Farewell. 

Mel. \aside\. Heele overthrow 

My whole designe with madnes. — Amintor, 
Thinke what thou doest : I dare as much as 

valour : 
But tis the King, the King, the King, Amintor, 
With whom thou fightest ! — [Aside.) I know 

hees honest, 310 

And this will worke with him. 

Amin. I cannot tell 

What thou hast said ; but thou hast charm'd my 

sword 
Out of my hand, and left me shaking here, 
Defenselesse. 

Mel. I will take it up for thee. 

Amin. What a wild beast is uncollected man ! 315 
The thing that we call honor beares us all 
Headlong unto sinne, and yet itselfe is nothing. 

Mel. Alas, how variable are thy thoughts ! 

Amin. Just like my fortunes. I was run to 
that 
I purpos'd to have chid thee for. Some plot, 320 
I did distrust, thou hadst against the King, 
By that old fellowes carriage. But take heede ; 
Theres not the least limbe growing to a king 
But carries thunder in't. 



sczNE II. ] tlTi^e ^a^Desf tETrageH^ 1 1 5 

Mel. I have none 

Against him. 

Jmin. Why, come then, and still remember 325 
Wee may not thinke revenge. 

MeL I will remember. 

Exeunt, 



Actus 5 

[Scene I. A Room in the Palace.'\ 

Enter Evadne and a Gentleman [of the Bed-chamber.l^ 

Evadne. Sir, is the King a-bed ? 
Gentleman. Madame, an houre agoe. 

Evad. Give me the key then, and let none 
be neere. 
Tis the Kings pleasure. 

Gent. I understand you, madamej would 
twere mine ! 
I must not wish good rest unto your ladiship. 
Evad. You talke, you talke. 
Gent. Tis all I dare doe, madame ; but the 
King 
Will wake, and then, [methinks — ] 

Evad. Saving your imagination, pray, good 

night, sir. 
Gent. A good night be it then, and a long one, 
madam. 
I am gone. Exit. 

Evad. The night growes horrible ; and all 
about me. 
Like my blacke purpose. Oh, the conscience 

King abed* 

8 meth'inh. Only Qi. ii Ex'it^ so Ql, ^2. Q3-F, mark 
no exit. W, D, B, begin a new scene here. 



scKNE I. ] t!^\)t ^a^De0 tEPrageD^ 1 1 7 

Of a lost virgin, whither wilt thou pull me? 
To what things dismall as the depth of hell 15 

Wilt thou provoke me ? Let no woman dare 
From this houre be disloyall, if her heart be 

flesh, 
If she have blood and can feare. Tis a daring 
Above that desperate fooles that left his peace, 
And went to sea to fight : tis so many sins, 20 

An age cannot repent 'm ; and so great 
The gods want mercy for. Yet I must through 

m : 
I have begun a slaughter on my honour. 
And I must end it there. — A sleepes. Good 

Heavens ! 
Why give you peace to this untemperate beast, 25 
That hath so long transgrest you ? I must kill 

him. 
And I will doo't bravely : the meere joy 
Tels me, I merit in it. Yet I must not 
Thus tamely doe it as he sleepes — that were 
To rock him to another world : my vengeance 30 
Shall take him waking, and then lay before him 
The number of his wrongs and punishments : 
He shape his sins like Furies, till I waken 
His evill angell, his sicke conscience, 

14 "virgin. Qi, B, virtue. 

21 repent. Only Qi. Qx et al.^ prevent. 

24 Good Heavens \ Qi, B, Oh God! 



1 1 8 tKt)e ^a^De0 tlTrageti^ [act v. 

And then He strick him dead. King, by your 

leave — Ties his armes to the bed, 35 

I dare not trust your strength j you [r] grace 

and I 
Must grapple upon even tearmes no more. 
So, if he raile me not from my resolution, 
I shall be strong enough. — My lord, the King ! 
My lord ! — A sleepes as if he meant to wake 40 
No more. — My lord ! — Is he not dead already ? 
Sir^! My lord ! 

King. Whose that ? 

Evad. Oh, you sleepe soundly, sir ! 

King. My deare Evadne, 

I have been dreaming of thee : come to bed. 
Evad. I am come at length, sirj but how 

welcome } 45 

King. What prettie new device is this, 
Evadne ? 
What, doe you tie me to you ? By my love, 
This is a queint one. Come, my deare, and 

kisse me ; 
He be thy Mars ; to bed, my queene of love : 

38-30 So, if . . . the King ! Qi reads: — 

So if he raile me not from my resolution. 
As I beleeve I shall not, I shall fit him. 
My lord, the King ! etc. 

39-42 The arrangement of the verse follows D and Th. Qq, 
F, B, end the verse lines with enough . . . sleepes . . . lord 
, . . lord. 



Scene I] ®^e ^3^1300 ^m^tl>^ I IQ 

Let us be caught together, that the gods 50 

May see and envie our embraces. 

Evad. Stay, sir, stay ; 

You are too hot, and I have brought you physick 
To temper your high veines. 

King. Prethee, to bed, then ; let me take it 
warme ; 
There thou shalt know the state of my body 

better. 55 

Evad. I know you have a surfeited foule 
body ; 
And you must bleed. \praws a knife.'\ 

King. Bleed ! 

Evad. I, you shall bleed. Lie still ; and, if 
the devill. 
Your lust, will give you leave, repent. This 

Steele 
Comes to redeeme the honor that you stole, 60 
King, my faire name ; which nothing but thy 

death 
Can answere to the world. 

King. How's this, Evadne ? 

Evad. I am not she; nor beare I in this breast 
So much cold spirit to be cald a woman • 
I am a tiger ; I am anything 65 

That knowes not pittie. Stirre not: if thou 

doest. 
He take thee unprepar'd, thy feares upon thee. 



1 20 ®t)e ^ai?ne0 ®rageti^ [act v. 

That make thy sins looke double, and so send 

thee 
(By my revenge, I will !) to looke those tor- 
ments 
Prepared for such blacke soules. 70 

King. Thou doest not meane this ; tis im- 
possible ; 
Thou art too sweet and gentle. 

Evad. No, I am not j 

I am as foule as thou art, and can number 
As many such hels here. I was once faire, 
Once I was lovely ; not a blowing rose 75 

More chastly sweet, till thou, thou, thou foule 

canker, 
(Stirre not) didst poison me. I was a world of 

vertue 
Till your curst court and you (Hell blesse you 

for't) 
With your temptations on temptations 
Made me give up mine honour; for which. King, 80 
I am come to kill thee. 
King. No ! 

Evad. I am. 

King. Thou art not! 

I prethee speake not these things: thou art 

gentle, 
And wert not meant thus rugged. 

Evad. Peace, and heare me. 



Scene L] tj^^t ^3^1)^0 ®raSeD^ 1 2 1 

Stirre nothing but your tongue, and that for 

mercy 
To those above us ; by whose lights I vow, 85 

Those blessed fires that shot to see our sinne. 
If thy hot soule had substance with thy bloud, 
I would kill that too, which being past my Steele, 
My tongue shall reach. Thou art a shamelesse 

villaine j 
A thing out of the overcharge of nature, 90 

Sent, like a thicke cloud, to disperse a plague 
Upon weake catching women ; such a tyrant 
That for his lust would sell away his subjects, 
I, all his Heaven hereafter ! 

King. Heare, Evadne, 

Thou soule of sweetnesse,heare ! I am thy King. 95 

Evad. Thou art my shame ! Lie still ; theres 
none about you. 
Within your cries ; all promises of safety 
Are but deluding dreames. Thus, thus, thou 

foule man. 
Thus I begin my vengeance ! Stabs him. 

King. Hold, Evadne ! 

I do command thee hold. 

Evad. I doe not meane, sir, 100 

To part so fairely with you ; we must change 
More of these love trickes yet. 

King. What bloudie villaine 

Provok't thee to this murther? 



122 tEI^tie ^a^ues; tETraged^ [actv. 

Evad. Thou, thou monster ! 

King. Oh! 

Evad. Thou keptst me brave at court, and 

whorde me, King; 105 

Then married me to a young noble gentleman. 
And whorde me still. 

King. Evadne, pittie me ! 

Evad. Hell take me, then ! This for my lord 
Amintor ! 
This for my noble brother ! And this stroke 
For the most wrong'd of women ! Kils him. 

King. Oh ! I die. "o 

Evad. Die all our faults together ! I forgive 
thee. Exit. 

Enter two \_Gentlemen'\ of the Bed-chamber. 

1st Gentleman. Come, now shees gone, lets 
enter; the King expects it and will be angry. 

2nd Gentleman. Tis a fine wench ; weele have 
a snap at her one of these nights as she goes 115 
from him. 

1st Gent. Content. How quickly hee had 
done with her ! I see kings can do no more that 
way than other mortall people. 

2d Gent. How fast he is ! I cannot heare him 1*0 
breathe. 

1st Gent. Either the tapers give a feeble light, 
Or hee lookes very pale. 

Exit. Q2, Exeunt. 



Scene I] ti^^t ^a^Ufsf GTrageD^ 123 

2£i Gent. And so he does : 

Pray Heaven he be well ; lets looke — Alas ! 
Hees stiffe, wounded, and dead ! Treason, trea- 
son ! 1*5 
1st Gent. Run forth and call. 
2d Gent. Treason, treason ! 

Exit \_Second'\ Gent\_leman'\. 
1st Gent. This will be laid on us : 

Who can beleeve a woman could doe this ? 
Enter Cleon and Lisippus. 
Cleon. How now ! wheres the traitor ? 
1st Gent. Fled, fled away ! but there her woe- 
full act 130 
Lies still. 

Cleon. Her act ! a woman ! 
Lysippus. Wheres the body ? 

1st Gent. There. 

Lys. Farewell, thou worthy man ! there were 
two bonds 
That tied our loves, a brother and a king, 
The least of which might fetch a floud of teares ;i3s 
But such the miserie of greatnesse is. 
They have no time to mourne ; then, pardon me ! 
Sirs, which way went she ? 

Enter Strato. 
Strata. Never follow her; 

For she, alas ! was but the instrument. 

Exit Gentleman. In Qa, after 1. 126. 



124 ^\lt ^a^lie0 ®rageD^ [act v. 

Newes is now brought in that Melantius 140 

Has got the fort, and stands upon the wall, 

And with a loud voice cals those few that passe 

At this dead time of night, delivering 

The innocence of this act. 

Lys. Gentlemen, 

I am your King. 

Strat. We doe acknowledge it. 145 

Lys. I would I were not ! Follow all ; for this 

Must have a sudden stop. Exeunt. 

[Scene II. Before the Fort.'] 

Enter Melant[ius]y Diph[ilusy and] Ca /\^ianax] , on 
the Walls. 

Melantius. If the dull people can beleeve I 
am arm'd, 
(Be constant, Diph[ilus],) now we have time 
Either to bring our banisht honors home, 
Or create new ones in our ends. 

Diphilus. I feare not ; 

My spirit lies not that way. — Courage, Cal- 

ianax ! 5 

Calianax. Would I had any ! You should 

quickly know it. 
Mel. Speake to the people ; thou art eloquent. 
Cal. Tis a fine eloquence to come to the gal- 
lowes : 



Scene II.] ^\^t ^3^1)05? QPtageD^ 1 25 

You were born to be my end ; the devill take 

you ! 
Now must I hang for companie. Tis strange, 10 
I should be old and neither wise nor valiant. 
Enter Lisip[j)us]f Diag[oras\y Clean , Strat\oy and^ 
Guard, 
Lysippus. See where he stands, as boldly con- 
fident 
As if he had his full command about him. 
Strata. He lookes as if he had the better cause, 
sir; 
Under your gracious pardon, let me speake it. 15 
Though he be mighty-spirited and forward 
To all great things, to all things of that danger 
Worse men shake at the telling of, yet certainly 
I doe beleeve him noble, and this action 
Rather puld on then sought : his mind was ever 20 
As worthy as his hand. 

Lys. Tis my feare too. 

Heaven forgive all ! — Summon him. Lord 
Cleon. 
Clean. Ho, from the wals there ! 
Mel. Worthy Cleon, welcome : 

We could have wisht you here, lord ; you are 
honest. 
Cal. (aside). Well, thou art as flattering a 
knave, though 25 

I dare not tell thee so — 



1 26 tE^t ^a^Ue0 tE^rageD^ [act v. 

Lys. Melantius ! 

MeL Sir ? 

Lys. I am sorry that we meet thus ; our old 

love 
Never requir'd such distance. Pray [to] Heaven, 
You have not left yourselfe and sought this 

safety 
More out of feare than honor ! You have lost 30 
A noble master; which your faith, Melantius, 
Some thinlce might have preserved ; yet you 

know best. 
Cal. [aside] . When time was, I was mad* 

some that dares fight, 
I hope will pay this rascall. 

MeL Royall young man ; those teares looke 

lovely on thee : 35 

Had they beene shed for a deserving one. 
They had beene lasting monuments. Thy bro- 
ther, 
Whirst he was good, I cald him King, and 

serv'd him 
With that strong faith, that most unwearied 

valour 
Puld people from the farthest sunne toseekehim, 40 
And buy his friendship. I was then his souldier. 

28 to. Only in Qi. 

32 Some . . . best. Qi, I'm sure might have preserved. 
41 buy. Qi, D, B, beg. 



Scene II. ] ^^^0 ^3^1)00 ^tU^tl}^ 1 2 J 

But since his hot pride drew him to disgrace me, 
And brand my noble actions with his lust, 
(That never cur'd dishonor of my sister, 
Base staine of whore, and, which is worse, the 

joy 45 

To make it still so) like myselfe, thus I 
Have flung him off with my allegeance ; 
And stand here, mine owne justice, to revenge 
What I have suffered in him, and this old man 
Wrong'd almost to lunacie. 

Cal. Who, I ? so 

You wud draw me in. I have had no wrong; 
I doe disclaime ye all. 

Me/. The short is this. 

Tis no ambition to lift up myselfe 
Urgeth me thus ; I doe desire againe 
To be a subject, so I may be free; 55 

If not, I know my strength, and will unbuild 
This goodly towne. Be speedy and be wise 
In a reply. 

Strat, Be sudden, sir, to tie 
All up againe. What's done is past recall. 
And past you to revenge ; and there are thou- 
sands 6o 
That wait for such a troubled houre as this. 
Throw him the blanke. 

45-47 Base . . . allegeance, the verse division of D. ^q, F, 
B, end Ibes with luorse . . . myselfe . . . allegeance. 



128 ®l)e ^3^000 tCragei)^ [act v. 

Lys. Melantius, write in that 

Thy choice : my scale is at it. 

\_Throzvs a paper to Melantius,'\ 

Mel. It was our honours drew us to this act, 
Not gaine ; and we will only worke our pardons. 65 

Cal. Put my name in too. 

Diph. You disclaimed us all 

But now, Calianax. 

Cal. Thats all one ; 

He not be hangd hereafter by a tricke ; 
He have it in. 

Mel. You shall, you shall — 

Come to the backe gate, and weele call you 

King, 70 

And give you up the fort. 

Lys, Away, away ! 

Exeunt Omnes. 

[Scene III. Ante-room to Amintor* s Apartments. '\ 

Enter Aspatia, in mans apparell, \_and with artificial 
scars on her face. '\ 

Aspatia. This is my fatall houre. Heaven 
may forgive 
My rash attempt, that causelessly hath laid 
Grifes on me that will never let me rest. 
And put a womans hart into my breast. 
It is more honor for you that I die ; 5 



Scene III. ] ^j^t ^3^1)00 tETrageD^ 1 29 

For she that can endure the misery 
That I have on me, and be patient too, 
May live and laugh at al that you can doe. — 
God save you, sir ! 

Enter Servant. 
Servant. And you, sir ! Whats your busi- 

nesse ? 
Asp. With you, sir, now ; to doe me the faire 
office 10 

To helpe me to your lord. 

Ser. What, would you serve him ? 

Asp. He doe him any service ; but, to haste, 
For my affaires are ernest, I desire 
To speake with him. 

Ser. Sir, because you are in such haste, 

would 15 

Bee loth to delay you longer : you can not. 
Asp. It shall become you, though, to tell your 

lord. 
Ser. Sir, he will speake with nobody j 
[But in particular, I have in charge. 
About no waightie matters.] 

Asp. This is most strange. 20 

Art thou gold-proofe ? theres for thee ; helpe me 
to him. 
Ser. Pray be not angry, sir ; He doe my best. 

Exit. 

9 God. Q2 misprints Cod. 

19-20 But in particular .... matter i. Only in Ql. 



1 30 W^t #a^tie0 tETtagen^ [act v. 

Jsp. How stubbornly this fellow answered 
me ! 
There is a vild dishonest tricke in man, 
More then in women. All the men I meet *S 

Appeare thus to me, are harsh and rude. 
And have a subtletie in every thing. 
Which love could never know ; but we fond 

women 
Harbour the easiest and the smoothest thoughts, 
And thinke all shall goe so. It is unjust 30 

That men and women should be matcht together. 
Enfer Amintor and his man. 
Amintor, Where is he ? 
Ser. There, my lord. 

Amin, What would you, sir ? 

Asp, Please it your lordship to command your 
man 
Out of the roome, I shall deliver things 
Worthy your hearing. 

Amin. Leave us. \Exit Servant.~\ 

Asp. {aside). Oh, that that shape 35 

Should bury falsehood in it ! 

Amin. Now your will, sir. 

Asp. When you know me, my lord, you needs 
must ghesse 
My businesse ; and I am not hard to know ; 
For, till the chance of warre markt this smooth 
face 

25 ivomen. Q 1 66 1, woman. 



Scene III. ] tE^t ^U^t^tii WUQt^^ 1 3 1 

With these few blemishes, people would call me 40 
My sisters picture, and her mine. In short, 
I am the brother to the wrong'd Aspatia. 

Jmin. The wrong'd Aspatia ! would thou 

wert so too 
Unto the wrong'd Amintor ! Let me kisse 
That hand of thine, in honour that I beare 45 

Unto the wrong'd Aspatia. Here I stand 
That did it. Would he could not ! Gentle youth. 
Leave me ; for there is something in thy lookes 
That cals my sinnes in a most hideous forme 
Into my mind ; and I have griefe enough 50 

Without thy helpe. 

Asp. I would I could with credit ! 

Since I was twelve yeeres old, I had not scene 
My sister till this houre I now arriv'd : 
She sent for me to see her manage ; 
A wofull one ! but they that are above 55 

Have ends in everything. She us'd few words, 
But yet enough to make me understand 
The basenesse of the injuries you did her. 
That little trayning I have had is war; 
I may behave myselfe rudely in peace ; 60 

I would not, though. I shall not need to tell 

you, 
I am but young and would be loth to lose 
Honour, that is not easily gain'd againe. 

58 injuries. Q6, F, D, injurie. 



132 . tETlJe ^a^ue0 tB^rageJ)^ [act v. 

Fairely I meane to deale : the age is strict 

For single combats ; and we shall be stopt, 65 

If it be publisht. If you like your sword, 

Use it ; if mine appeare a better to you, 

Change ; for the ground is this, and this the time. 

To end our difference. \_Draws.'\ 

Amin, Charitable youth. 

If thou beest such, think not I will maintaine 70 
So strange a wrong ; and, for thy sisters sake, 
Knowe, that I could not thinke that desperate 

thing 
I durst not doe ; yet, to injoy this world, 
I would not see her ; for, beholding thee, 
I am I know not what. If I have ought 75 

That may content thee, take it and begone. 
For death is not so terrible as thou ; 
Thine eies shoot guilt into me. 

Jsp, Thus, she swore. 

Thou wouldst behave thyselfe, and give me 

words 
That would fetch teares into my eies; and so 80 
Thou dost indeed. But yet she bad me watch 
Lest I weare cossen'd, and be sure to fight 
Ere I returned. 

Amin. That must not be with me. 

For her He die directly ; but against her 
Will never hazard it. 

80 my. Q4-F, D, B, mine. 



Scene III.] titje ^3^000 tETtageu^ 133 

Asp, You must be urg'd. 85 

I doe not deale uncivilly with those 
That dare to fight ; but such a one as you 
Must be usd thus. Shee strikes him. 

Amin. I prethee, youth, take heed. 

Thy sister is a thing to me so much 
Above mine honour that I can indure 90 

All this — Good gods ! a blow I can indure; 
But stay not, lest thou draw a timelesse death 
Upon thyselfe. 

Asp. Thou art some prating fellow, 

One that hath studied out a tricke to talke 
And move soft hearted people ; to be kickt, 95 

She kickes him. 
Thus to be kickt ! — {Aside^ Why should he be 

so slow 
In giving me my death ? 

Amin. A man can beare 

No more, and keepe his flesh. Forgive me, then ! 
I would indure yet, if I could. Now shew 

\Draws.'\ 
The spirit thou pretendest, and understand 100 
Thou hast no houre to live. {They fight.) What 

dost thou meane ? 
Thou canst not fight •, the blowes thou makst 
at me 

101-105 What . . . defencelesse. In Qq and F, lines end 
vf'x^Jight . . , besides . . . armes . . . defencelesse. 



1 34 W^t ^nt^tfS tCrageD^ [act v. 

Are quite besides ; and those I offer at thee, 
Thou spread'st thine armes and takst upon thy 

brest, 
Alas, defencelesse ! 

Jsp. I have got enough, 105 

And my desire. There is no place so fit 
For me to die as here. \_Fa//s.'\ 

Enter EvadnCy her hands bloudy, with a knife. 
Evadne. Amintor, I am loaden with events, 
That flie to make thee happy ; I have joyes. 
That in a moment can call backe thy wrongs no 
And settle thee in thy free state againe. 
It is Evadne still that followes thee, 
But not her mischiefes. 

Jmin. Thou canst not foole me to beleeve 
agen ; 
But thou hast looks and things so full of newesus 
That I am staid. 

Evad. Noble Amintor, put off thy amaze. 
Let thine eies loose and speake. Am I not 

faire ? 
Lookes not Evadne beautious with these rites 

now ? 
Were those houres halfe so lovely in thine 

eies 120 

When our hands met before the holy man ? 
I was too foule within to looke faire then ; 
Since I knew ill, I was not free till now. 



Scene III.] ®|)e ^3^^300 ^t^^tl^^ 135 

Jmin. There is presage of some important 
thing 
About thee, which, it seemes, thy tongue hath lost ; 125 
Thy hands are bloudy, and thou hast a knife. 
Evad. In this consists thy happinesse and 
mine : 
Joy to Amintor ! for the King is dead. 

Jmin. Those have most power to hurt us, 
that we love ; 
We lay our sleeping lives within their armes. 130 
Why, thou hast raisd up mischiefe to his height. 
And found one to out-name thy other faults j 
Thou hast no intermission of thy sinnes, 
But all thy life is a continued ill ; 
Blacke is thy colour now, disease thy nature. 135 
Joy to Amintor ! Thou hast toucht a life. 
The very name of which had power to chaine 
Up all my rage, and calme my wildest wrongs. 
Evad. Tis done ; and, since I could not find 
a way 
To meet thy love so cleere as through his life, 140 
I cannot now repent it. 

Jmin. Couldst thou procure the gods to 
speake to me. 
To bid me love this woman and forgive, 
Ithinke I should fall out with them. Behold, 
Here lies a youth whose wounds bleed in my 

brest, 145 



1 36 W\^t ^a^tiesf STrageD^ [act v. 

Sent by a violent fate to fetch his death 

From my slow hand ! And, to augment my woe, 

You now are present, stain'd with a kings bloud 

Violently shed. This keepes night here 

And throwes an unknown wildernesse about me. 150 

Jsp. Oh, oh, oh ! 

Jmin. No more; pursue me not. 

Evad. Forgive me, then, 

And take mee to thy bed : wee may not part. 

\^Kneels.-\ 

Amin. Forbeare, be wise, and let my rage goe 
this way. 

Evad. Tis you that I would stay, not it. 

Amin. Take heed, 155 

It will returne with me. 

Evad. If it must be, 

I shall not feare to meete it. Take me home. 

Amin. Thou monster of crueltie, forbeare ! 

Evad. For Heavens sake, looke more calme ! 
thine eies are sharper 
Then thou canst make thy sword. 

Amin. Away, away ! 160 

Thy knees are more to mee than violence ; 
I am worse then sicke to see knees follow me 
For that I must not grant. For Gods sake, stand ! 

Evad. Receive me, then. 

Amin. I dare not stay thy language; 

158 of erudite. Th, B, of all cruelty. 



Scene III] ^E^lje ^3^1100 tE^U^tH^ 137 

In midst of all my anger and my griefe, 165 

Thou doest awake something that troubles me, 
And saies, I lov'd thee once. I dare not stay ; 
There is no end of womans reasoning. 

Leaves her. 
Evad. [m/«^] . Amintor, thou shalt love me 
now againe ! 
Go; I am calme. Farewell, and peace for ever! 170 
Evadne, whom thou hat'st, will die for thee ! 

Kills herselfe, 
Amin. I have a little humane nature yet, 
Thats left for thee, that bids me stay thy hand. 

Re turtles. 
Evad. Thy hand was welcome, but it came 
too late. 
Oh, I am lost ! the heavie sleepe makes haste. 175 

She dies. 
Asp. Oh, oh, oh ! 

Amin. This earth of mine doth tremble, and 
I feele 
A stark affrighted motion in my bloud ; 
My soul growes wearie of her house, and I 
All over am a trouble to myselfe. i8o 

There is some hidden power in these dead things 
That calls my flesh unto 'em ; I am cold : 
Be resolute and beare em company. 
Theres something yet which I am loth to leave : 

l%z jlesh. {^i, selfe. ««^o, Qi, (^5, Q2, into. 



1 38 ^^t ^a^De0 ®rageti^ [act v. 

Theres man enough in me to meet the feares 185 
That death can bring; and yet would it were 

done ! 
I can finde nothing in the whole discourse 
Of death, I durst not meet the bouldest way ; 
Yet still, betwixt the reason and the act, 
The wrong I to Aspatia did stands up ; 190 

I have not such another fault to answere: 
Though she may justly arme herselfe with scorne 
And hate of me, my soule will part lesse troubled, 
When I have paid to her in teares my sorrow : 
I will not leave this act unsatisfied, 195 

If all thats left in me can answer it. 

Jsp. Was it a dreame ? there stands Amintor 
still ; 
Or I dreame still. 

Jmin. How doest thou ? speake ; receive my 
love & helpe. 
Thy bloud climbes up to his old place againe ; 200 
Theres hope of thy recoverie. 

Jsp. Did you not name Aspatia ? 

Jmin. I did. 

Jsp. And talkt of teares and sorrow unto her ? 

Jmin. Tis true ; and till these happie signes 
in thee 
Did stay my course, it was thither I was going. 205 

Jsp. Thou art there already, and these wounds 
are hers : 

205 Did stay, Q3. Qi, Q2, staid. 



Scene III] tB^t ^3^1^00 QtrEgeD^ 139 

Those threats I brought with me sought not 

revenge, 
But came to fetch this blessing from thy hand : 
I am Aspatia yet. 

Jmin. Dare my soule ever looke abroad agen ? 210 
Jsp. I shall sure live, Amintor ; I am well ; 
A kinde of healthfull joy wanders within me. 
Amin. The world wants lives to excuse thy 
losse ; 
Come, let me bare thee to some place of helpe. 
Asp. Amintor, thou must stay ; I must rest 

here ; 215 

My strength begins to disobey my will. 
How dost thou, my best soule ? I would faine 

live 
Now, if I could. Wouldst thou have loved me, 
then ? 
Amin. Alas, 
All that I am's not worth a haire from thee ! 220 
Asp. Give me thine hand ; mine hands grope 
up & down. 
And cannot finde thee ; I am wondrous sicke : 
Have I thy hand, Amintor ? 

^w/«. *Thou greatest blessing of the world, 

thou hast. 
Asp. I doe beleeve thee better then my sense. 225 
Oh, I must goe ! farewell ! Dies, 

213 li-ves. Qq, F, lines, to excuse, Th, B, to expiate. 
'^ 220 aw'i, 24-F. gi-Qs, ams. 



140 ^^t 3pa^iJe0 tEtragen^ [act v. 

Jmin. She sounds. — Aspatia! — Helpe! for 
Gods sake, water, 
Such as may chaine life ever to this frame ! — 
Aspatia, speake ! — What, no helpe yet? I foole ! 
He chafe her temples. Yet theres nothing 

stirs : 430 

Some hidden power tell her, Amintor cals. 
And let her answere me! — Aspatia, speake ! — 
I have heard, if there be any life, but bow 
The body thus, and it will shew itselfe. 
Oh, she is gone ! I will not leave her yet. 235 

Since out of justice we must challenge nothing, 
He call it mercy, if youle pitty me. 
You heavenly powers, and lend for some few 

yeeres 
The blessed soule to this faire seat againe ! 
No comfort comes ; the gods denie me too ! 240 
He bow the body once againe — Aspatia 1 — 
The soule is fled forever, and I wrong 
Myselfe so long to loose her company. 
Must I talke now ? Heres to be with thee, love ! 

Kils himselfe. 
Enter Servant. 

Servant. This is a great grace to my lord, to 245 
have the new King come to him ; I must tell 
him he is entring. — Oh, God ! — Helpe, helpe ! 



227 sounds. F, swounds. 
230 theres, 24-F- Qi-3, 



there. 



s«NE III.] tC^iie ^pa^oesf tlTrageli^ 141 

Enter Lis/p[^us], Me/ant^ius'], Cal[ianax\, Cleon, 
Diph[ilus, and~\ Strato. 

Lysippus. Wheres Amintor ? 

Strato. Oh, there, there ! 

Lys. How strange is this ! 

Calianax. What should we doe here ? 

Melantius. These deaths are such acquainted 
things with me 250 

That yet my heart dissolves not. May I stand 
StifFe here for ever ! — Eies, call up your teares ! 
This is Amintor. Heart, he was my friend ; 
Melt ! now it flowes. — Amintor, give a word 
To call me to thee. 255 

Amin, Oh! 

Mel. Melantius cals his friend Amintor. Oh, 
Thy armes are kinder to me then thy tongue ! 
Speake, speake ! 

Amin. What ? 260 

Mel. That little word was worth all the 
sounds 
That ever I shall heare againe. 

D'lph. Oh, brother, 

Here lies your sister slaine ! You lose yourselfe 
In sorrow there. 

Mel. Why, Dip[hilus], it is 

A thing to laugh at in respect to this : 265 

Here was my sister, father, brother, sonne, 

248 Strato. Edd. 1 778 changed to &ri/., so D. 



142 ^))t ^apUf0 ©rageu^ [act v. 

All that I had. — Speake once againej what 

youth 
Lies slaine there by thee ? 

Jmin. Tis Aspatia. 

My last is said. Let me give up my soule 
Into thy bosome. [Z)/Vj.]27o 

Cal. Whats that ? whats that ? Aspatia ? 

Mel. I never did 

Repent the greatnesse of my heart till now ; 
It will not burst at need. 

CaL My daughter dead here too ! And you 
have all fine new trickes to grieve, but I nereays 
knew any but direct crying. 

Mel. I am a pratler : but, no more ! 

[^Ofers to stab himself.'] 

Diph. Hold, brother ! 

Lis. Stop him. 

Diph. Fie, how unmanly was this offer in 
you ! 
Does this become our straine ? a8o 

Cal. I know not what the matter is, but I 
am growne very kinde, and am friends with you 
[all now] . You have given me that among you 
will kill me quickly ; but He go home and live 
as long as I can. [Exit.'] 185 

Mel, His spirit is but poore that can be kept 

269 My last is said. Q3, My senses fade. 
283 all now. Only in Qi, 



Scene III.] tETI&e ^a^De0 ®rageD^ 143 

From death for want of weapons. 

Is not my hands a weapon sharpe enough 

To stop my breath ? or, if you tie downe those, 

I vow, Amintor, I will never eat, 290 

Or drinke, or sleepe, or have to doe with that 

That may preserve life ! This I sweare to 

keepe. 
Lys. Look to him, though, and beare those 

bodies in. 
May this a faire example be to me. 
To rule with temper, for on lustfuU kings 295 

Unlookt-for sudden deaths from God are sent, 
But curst is he that is their instrument. 

[Exeunt.'\ 

288 hands. Q6, F, hand, sharpe, Qi - Q3. Q4 - F, D 
B, good. 



FINIS. 



0ott& to Cl^c jttaiti'js CtageUr 

For the meaning of single ivords see the Glossary. 

Date. This play, licensed, April 4, 1619, to R. Higginbotham 
and F. Constable, was evidently written before October 31, 161 1, 
on which day a play was licensed by Sir George Buc, and endorsed, 
" This second maiden's tragedy." It was first printed in 1619, for 
F. Constable. For other editions see Bibliography. There is no 
certain early limit, but 1 609 is a reasonable conjecture for the date 
of the first production. 

Stage History. The play was first acted at either the Globe 
or the Blackfriars theatre by the King's men, and probably while 
Shakespeare was still an active member of that company. Burbadge 
played Melantius, and the play was popular until the closing of the 
theatres. A droll, the Testy Lord, based on the scenes dealing with 
Calianax, was played at the Red Bull during the suppression of the 
theatres, and the play was revived on Nov. 17, 1660. Pepys saw 
it in the following year, and it was popular during the Restoration, 
as is evinced by Dryden's criticisms and Rymer's attack in his Trage- 
dies of the Last Age Considered. An alteration of the play, or rather 
a new fifth act, without the murder of the king, was written by 
Waller, and two versions were printed ; but it does not appear 
that either of these versions for any long time supplanted the orig- 
inal play on the stage. In 1703 it was revived at Drury Lane, 
where it had not been acted for twelve years; in 1706, at the 
Haymarket, Evadne was played by Mrs. Barry, Aspatia by Mrs. 
Bracegirdle, and Melantius by Betterton ; and Melantius was the 
last part acted by Betterton three days before his death in 1610. 
The play appeared occasionally until the middle of the century j 
then it seems to have been laid aside until 1837, when, with alter- 
ations by Macready and three new scenes by Sheridan Knowles, it 
was revived as the Bridal. 

7, 73. That beares the light above her. Weber 



j]iote0 to W^t ^aiu'0 ®rageti^ 145 

adopted about of Qx and understood ligAt to stand for lightning. 
Dyce took Aer to refer to Aspatia and understood the passage to 
mean, has greater distinction than Aspatia. Daniel (B) suggested 
'* blears " for beares, — " Evadne makes dim the very light of 
heaven that is above her, by her superior brilliancy." Dyce' s inter- 
pretation seems the most satisfactory. A similar uncertainty of the 
quartos between abo-ve and about is found in 1. 138. 

8, 100. in course. In turn. See 11, i, 106. 

II. Scene II. Compare Henry VI 11^ v, 4, and the Induc- 
tion to Four Plays in One, for similar scenes. 

11, 4. well said. Here, as frequently, equivalent to "well 
done." 

12, 21. Office ! •* The syllable 0^ reminds the testy states- 
man of his robe, and he carries on the image. ' ' Coleridge, cited 
by D and B. 

I3» 5^- breake a dozen wiser heads than his own, 

etc. At Shirley's masque, the Triumph of Peace, at court, in 
1633, Lord Pembroke broke his staff over the shoulders of Thomas 
May, the poet. Osborne in his Traditional Memoirs relates the 
story, observing in the very words of the text that Pembroke ** did 
not refraine, whilst he was chamberlaine, to break many wiser 
heads than his owne." This coincidence was noted by Weber ; 
and Dyce, quoting Weber's note, which he queries as by Sir Walter 
Scott, added that in a copy of the quarto of 1638 in his possession, 
** Pembroke " was written in the margin opposite this passage. 

I7» ^39- This beautie. The beauty of the court, disclosed 
by the entrance of Cynthia, is referred to. The mists, mentioned 
in the stage-direction, doubtless disappeared. 

20, 196-198. These . . . things. Daniel (B) believes Q2 
a bungling attempt to correct the certainly corrupt <^i, and pro- 
poses to read : 

These are our music : next, thy watery race 
Led on in couples, we are pleased to grace 
This noble night ; 
Bid them draw near, each in their richest things. 

Dyce suggested **Lead" for Bring in 1. 197. 

21, 214. Blew Proteus. Blue, because a sea-deity. • 

22, 252. if not her measure. 



146 j^otrflf to W^t ^paiO'g tETragei)^ 

altered to "If not o'er measure" ; Dyce retained the reading of 
Q2, and explained, '* though perhaps what I bring may not com- 
pletely fill up her [^t/iis hour'^ measure." Fleay i^Chron. Eng. 
DramOy i, 193) suggested that the words are merely the misprint of 
a stage-direction, — " Another measure." His suggestion is doubt- 
less correct and is adopted by Daniel (B). In Qi there are but two 
songs and two dances 5 ^2 provides three songs and three accom- 
panying dances. 

24, 292. yon same flashing streame. This is the ef- 
fulgence of the court, shot from the south. A greater light, a greater 
majesty, than that of the daybreak in the east. 

27, 22. take it. Contradistinctive to leave it, ofl. 18 j it 
refers to trick in 1. 17. 

28, 30. Plucke downe a side. To set up a side meant, to 
be partners in a game j to pluck donvn a side, to cause the loss of a 
game. 

28, 38. But I could run my countrey. But I could 

(B, qy., would) drive my country at a hot pace. 

29, 56. lost. Left of Q5-F has the same meaning as lost i 
the two were used interchangeably. See 1. 347. 

43> 341- that my flesh could beare with patience. 

Dyce notes : " If the text be right [thatl must refer to 

Nor let the king 
Know I conceive he wrongs me"; [11. 339, J40.] 

— that concealment would enable me to bear my injury with 
patience. ' ' 

48, 67. the wilde iland. Naxos. 

49, 78. A miserable life of this poore picture I 

A living representation of the pitiful scene depicted in this needle- 
work. 

64, 264. that little credit. The force of that is intensive, 

— such little credit. 

79, 260. Enter Melantius agen. Daniel (B) notes, 

" Perhaps a new scene should be marked here." No change of 
place is intended 5 and only a very brief interval of time can be 
supposed to have intervened between the exit and the reentry of 
Melantius. 



jliotesf to ®t)e ^aiD'flf ®rageD^ 147 

79, 266. as sent. "As if you were sent on purpose.'* 
Mason. 

83, 2. you looke, Evadne. Dyce remarks that modern 
editors (punctuating as in the text) strangely misunderstand the 
line ; but his interpretation — you look or seem to be Evadne — 
can be justified only if Evadne is supposed to misunderstand her bro- 
ther, and even then is not supported by Melantius' succeeding lines. 
The punctuation of Theobald, retained in the text, requires less re- 
finement in interpretation. 

84, II. Millan skins. "Fine gloves manufactured at 
Milan." Nares. 

85, 32. fill. " As a sheet of paper is JiWd or covered with 
writing." Daniel (B). 

86, 55. where the Dog raignes. The dog star, Sirius, 

which gave the name to the dog-days, and was associated with the 
hottest and most unhealthful weather. 

95, 228. Lerna. The name of a marsh and a lake in Ar- 
golis, famous in Greek mythology as the abode of the Lernean 
Hydra, slain by Hercules in the accomplishment of one of his 
twelve labors. 

96, 239. if thou plai'st with thy repentance, the 

best sacrifice. If thou mak'st thy repentance, the most ac- 
ceptable sacrifice you can offer, merely a mockery and sport. 

100, 39. Quit *em. Abandon them, forsake them. 

113, 286. astronomers. " When astrologer and astronomer 
began to be differentiated, the relation between them was, at first, 
the converse of the present usage." iV". E. D. 

116. King abed. The stage-directions indicate the business 
on the Elizabethan stage. At the rear of the stage was a bed with 
closed curtains j or the bed was placed in the inner stage and cur- 
tains concealed it from the front. Evadne remained on the stage 
from the opening of the scene to line ill; and there was nothing to 
indicate the change of scene at line 1 1 , marked by Theobald and 
other modern editors. 

117, 19. that desperate fooles. The reference has not 
been identified. 

121, 86. Those blessed fires that shot. Meteors. 
126, 33. When time was. From the beginning. 
129, 12. but, to haste. But, to make haste. 



148 ^otta to ®l^e ^aiu'0 ®rageU^ 

But in particular, I have in charge, 
129, 19-20. ^ijQut no waightie matters. 
I have in charge that he will speake with nobody, especially if 
they wish to speake on weighty matters. 

135, 142-43. Couldst thou . . . this woman. Dan- 
iel's suggestion of " thee, woman," avoids the confusion of the 
change from the personal to the demonstrative pronoun. The 
change, however, seems natural to Amintor's passion. 



TEXT 

The first quarto, published in 1620, some twelve years after the 
play was first acted, presents an evidently corrupt and unauthorized 
text, diflfering utterly at the beginning and the end from the other 
quartos, and in the remaining portion of the play apparently based 
on a copy made by some scribe in the audience. The passages at 
the beginning and the end were in the opinion of Dyce, supplied 
** by some hireling writer," and they certainly cannot have been 
the work of Beaumont or Fletcher. They may possibly have been 
alterations made for some theatrical performance, but their contents 
offer no support for Fleay's conjecture [CAron. Eng. Drama, i, 
189) that they were made for the presentation at court, 1612- 
13. The main body of the text, though presenting many readings 
due to the inaccurate hearing of the scribe and though carelessly 
printed with little regard to the division of verse-lines, often sup- 
plies corrections for the corruptions of later quartos. Walkeley, the 
publisher of Qi, brought out the second quarto in 1622, to which 
he prefixed an Address to the Reader, disclaiming for himself or the 
printer any blame for the errors of Qi and promising their reforma- 
tion. By whom he was supplied with a corrected text cannot be 
known. Beaumont had been dead six years j and though Fletcher 
was still alive, there is nothing to indicate that he supplied or revised 
the text. Walkeley had printed an anonymous edition of Thierry 
and Theodoret in 1 621, and the first quarto of ^ f^^^g and No 
King With the authors' names in 1 61 9 5 the manuscript for the 
latter he had obtained from Sir Henry Nevill, and he had now secured 
from some source a good copy of Philaster. 

Q2 is our chief authority for the text. Q3, 1630, follows it in 
the main, but Q4, 1634, presents many changes especially in the 
oaths, and these changes have been generally preserved in subsequent 
quartos, the Folio of 1679, and by modern editors up to Dyce, and 
even he often retains the modified oaths. The later quartos repeat 
the text of Q4'34; Q5a has many errors of its own 5 and F, 
printed from Q6, reproduces the accumulated errors, though it adds 
a few corrections that are improvements. 



150 tRtXt 

The present edition is based on Q2, its spelling is retained, and 
all departures from its letter are noted. Readings from other quartos 
have occasionally been adopted. In view of the peculiar relation of 
Qi to Qz, and the fact that the full variants for Qi have never 
been printed except in the recent BuUen Variorum edition, and there 
not with entire accuracy, it has been thought best to include full 
variants of Qi, even when of the slightest significance. Similarly, 
full variants of the later Qq and F are given. Variants of modern 
editors are given only when of importance to the text j but all de- 
viations of Dyce or Daniel ( B ) from the present text are specifically 
noted. The arrangement of verse-lines in Q2 is followed in the 
main ; that of Dyce is sometimes preferred, when the reading of 
Qz is given in the notes. Variations in the verse-lines of Qi are 
not in general given. In all other respects except those just noted, 
the text follows the methods specified in the textual note to the 
Maid''s Tragedy. 

Professor J. W. Cunliffe transcribed the text of Q2 from the 
copy in the Bodleian Library, and collated it with Q3. Professor 
G. P. Baker collated the text with the Locker-Lampson copy of 
Qi now in the library of Mr. Robert Hoe, of New York. The 
authorities of the Cambridge University Press, through the kind 
intervention of the Master of Peterhouse and Mr. A. R. Waller, 
supplied the advance sheets of the edition of Philaster which Mr. 
Waller is editing for their "Cambridge English Classics." These 
sheets furnished a basis for the collation of the Qq and F, and 
a comparison of their variants with those of Leonhardt and Daniel 
(B). For the great kindness and important services of these gen- 
tlemen, the editor would offer his grateful acknowledgements. 



PHILASTER. 

Loue lies a Bleeding, 

^s ithathheene diuerfe times Med, 

at the Globe, and Blackc-Fricrs, by 
hts Maiejlies Scruants^ 



Written by? and yQenU 



The fccond Impreflion, corrc(^ed^and 
amended. 



LONDOIT. 

Printed for T h o m a s W a ik ley, and are to 
belolde at his Hioppe, at the figne of the 
Eagle and Childe, in Brittaines Bttrfc, 
1622* 



SOURCES 

The plot seems to have been the invention of the authors. Stories 
of a devoted heroine who disguises herself as a page were common 
in contemporary fiction and drama, and the similarity of the story 
of Euphrasia to that of Viola in Tivelfth Night and to the tale of 
Felismena and Don Felix in the Diana of Montemayor has been 
frequently noted. The situation of Philaster as a son revenging 
a father is also found not only in Hamlet but in various other Eliza- 
bethan plays. More notable are the resemblances between Philaster 
and Cymbeline ; but in the opinion of the present editor, Shakspere 
was in this case the borrower. A number of the situations and types 
of character employed in Philaster reappear in other plays by Beau- 
mont and Fletcher, especially Cupid's Re-venge and the Maid's 
Tragedy. 



TO THE READER. 

Courteous Reader. Philaster, and Arethusa his love, 
have laine so long a bleeding, by reason of some danger- 
ous and gaping wounds which they received in the first 
impression, that it is wondered how they could goe abroad 
so long, or travaile so farre as they have done. Although 
they were hurt neither by me, nor the printer ; yet I 
knowing and finding by experience how many well- 
wishers they have abroad, have adventured to bind up 
their wounds & to enable them to visite upon better 
tearmes such friends of theirs as were pleased to take 
knowledge of them so mained and deformed as they at 
the first were ; and if they were then gracious in your 
sight, assuredly they will now finde double favour, being 
reformed, and set forth suteable to their birth and 
breeding. 

By your sewiceahle 
Friend^ 
Thomas Walkley. 

To the Reader, etc. Only in Qz. mained. i. e., maimed. 



[THE STATIONER 

TO 
THE UNDERSTANDING 

GENTRIE 

This play so afFectlonatly taken and approoved by the 
seeing auditors or hearing spectators, (of which sort I 
take or conceive you to bee the greatest part) hath received 
(as appeares by the copious vent of two editions) no lesse 
acceptance with improovement of you likewise the readers, 
albeit the first impression swarm' d with errors, proov- 
ing it selfe like pure gold, which the more it hath beene 
tried and refined, the better is esteemed j the best poems 
of this kind, in the first presentation, resemble that all 
tempting minerall newly digged up, the actors being 
onely the labouring miners, but you the skilfull triers and 
refiners: now considering how currant this hath passed, 
under the infallible stampe of your judicious censure and 
applause, and (like a gainefull office in this age) eagerly 
sought for, not onely by those that have heard & seene 
it, but by others that have meerely heard thereof} here you 
behold me acting the merchant-adventurers part, yet as 
well for their satisfaction as mine owne benefit, and if 
my hopes (which I hope shall never lye like this Love 
A Bleeding) doe fairely arrive at their intended haven, I 
shall then be ready to lade a new bottome, and set foorth 
againe, to gaine the good- will both of you and them. 
To whom respectively I convey this hearty greeting: 
Adieu.] 

The Stationer^ etc., Qj, and with variations of spelling, Q4-Q6. 



[The Scene being in Cicilie. 
The Persons Represented in the Play are these, viz: 



The King. 

Philaster, Heire to the Crowne. 
Pharamond, Prince of Spaine. 
Dion, a Lord. 

Cleremont, ) Noble Gentlemen, 
Thrasaline, ) his Associates. 
Arethusa, the Kings Daughter. 
Gallatea, a wise Modest Lady at- 
tending the Princesse. 
Megra, a Lascivious Lady. 
An old Wanton Lady, or Croane. 



Another Lady attending the Prin- 
cesse. 

EUFRASiA, Daughter of Dion^ but 
disguised like a Page, and called 
Bellario. 

An old Captaine. 

Five Citizens. 

A countrey fellow. 

Two woodmen. 

The Kings Guard and Traine.] 



Two Noble Gentlemen. 



lit* Scene^ etc,^ Q3 j and with variations of spelling, Galatea^ Thrasilint, Q4-F. 
Q2 omits. Qi substitutes : 

The Actors Names. 

King of Cccely. 

Arathusa, the Princesse. 

Phylaster. 

Pharamont, a Spanish Prince. 

Leon, a Lord. 

Gleremon, 

Trasilin, 

Bellario a Page, Leon's daughter. 

Caliatea, a Lady of Honor. 

Megra, another Lady. 

A Waiting Gentlewoman. 

Two Woodmen. 

A Countrey Gallant. 

An Old Captaine. 

And Souldiers. 

A Messenger. 
Qi has X<o«, or L/ow, throughout the play in place of Dion of later eds. ; 
and in stage-directions or prefixes to speeches, Prin. or Princesse for Arethusa 
throughout, and Boy for Bellario until the last scene, Gleremon and Caliatea 
are misprints not found elsewhere. 



pi^ilamv 



Actus I. Scena I. 
^Tbe Prese7ice Chamber in the Palace.'\ 
Enter Diony Cleremonty and Thrasiline, 

Cleremont. Here's nor lords nor ladyes. 

Dion. Credit me, gentlemen, I wonder at it. 
They received strickt charge from the King to 
atend here : besides, it was boldly published that 
no officer should forbid any gentleman that 
desired to attend and hear. 

Cle, Can you ghesse the cause ? 

Dion. Sir, it is plaine, about the Spanish prince 
that's come to marry our kingdomes heir, and 
be our soveraigne. 

Thrasiline. Many, that will seeme to know 

Actui I. For the text of Qi from the beginning of the play 
through 1. 121, see Notes, p. 318. Variants from Qi are not given 
until after 1. 121. 

The Presence Chamber, etc. The names of localities and the divi- 
sions of scenes (after Act I, Sc. i) are from D, unless otherwise 
acted. 

Thrasiline. Qz spells Trasiline or Trasilin, and abbreviates Tra. 
throughout the play. 

I nor lords. Q5-F, not lords. 
6 desired. Q4-F, desire. 



158 pi^ila0Cer [acti. 

much, say she lookes not on him like a maide 
in love. 

Dion. Faith, sir, the multitude (that seldome 
know any thing but their owne opinions) speake 15 
that they would have. But the prince, before 
his own approach, receiv'd so many confident 
messages from the state, that I thinke shee's 
resolv'd to be rul'd. 

Cle, Sir, it is thought, with her hee shall en- 20 
joy both these kingdomes of Cicilie and Cala- 
bria. 

Dion. Sir, it is, without controversie, so meant. 
But 'twill bee a troublesome labour for him to 
enjoy both these kingdomes with safety, the right 25 
heire to one of them living, and living so vertu- 
ously ; especially, the people admiring the bravery 
of his minde and lamenting his injuries. 

Cle. Who, Philaster ? 

Dion, Yes ; whose father, we all know, was 3° 
by our late king of Calabria unrighteously de- 
posed from his fruitful Cicilie. My selfe drew 
some blood in those warres, which I would give 
my hand to be washed from. 

Cle. Sir, my ignorance in state-policie will not 35 
let mee know why, Philaster being heire to one 
of these kingdomes, the King should suffer him 
to walke abroad with such free liberty. 

14 Faith. Q4-F, O. 



Scene I] |^l|ila0ter 159 

Dion. Sir, it seemes your nature is more con- 
stant then to enquire after state newes. But the 40 
King, of late, made a hazard of both the king- 
domes, of Cicilie and his owne, with offering 
but to imprison Philaster. At which the city 
was in armes, not to bee charm'd downe by any 
state-order or proclamation, till they saw Philas- 45 
ter ride through the streetes pleasde and without 
a guard ; at which they threw their hats and 
their armes from them ; some to make bonfires, 
some to drinke, all for his deliverance. Which, 
wise men say, is the cause the King labors to 50 
bring in the power of a forraigne nation to awe 
his owne with. 

Enter Galateay a Lady, and Megra, 

Thra. See, the ladyes ! What's the first ? 
Dion. A wise and modest gentlewoman that 
attends the princesse. 55 

Cle. The second ? 

46—47 pleasde . . . tbreiv. D, released . . . threw. Mlt- 
ford, conj., without a guard ; and pleased at which they threw. 

Enter Galatea,, a Lady,, and Megra. Q(\ and F read, ** Enter 
Galatea (<^2, Gallatea) Megra and a Lady" ; and in the dialogue 
preceding- the entrance of the King, they assign to " La " the 
speeches now given to " Meg," and to " Meg" those now given 
to *'La." The transpositions were first suggested by Seward and 
have been followed by all modern editors. 

Galatea. Qt. spells Gallatea and abbreviates Gall, throughout the 
play. 



l60 ^\)iU&ttt [Act I. 

Dion, She is one that may stand still dis- 
creetely enough, and ill-favour'dly dance her 
measure ; simper when shee is courted by he; 
friend, and slight her husband. 60 

Cie. The last ? 

Dion. Faith, I thinke she is one whom the 
state keepes for the agents of our confederate 
princes ; she'll cog and lie with a whole army, 
before the league shall break. Her name is com- 65 
mon through the kingdome, and the trophies of 
her dishonour advanced beyond Hercules pillars. 
She loves to try the severall constitutions of 
mens bodyes ; and, indeede, has destroyed the 
worth of her owne body by making experiment 70 
upon it for the good of the commonwealth. 

C/e. She's a profitable member. 

Megra. Peace, if you love me : you shall see 
these gentlemen stand their ground and not court 
us. 75 

Galatea. What if they should ? 

Lady. What if they should ! 

Meg. Nay, let her alone. — What if they 
should ? Why, if they should, I say they were 
never abroad. What forraigner would doe so ? 80 
it writes them directly untravell'd. 

Gal. Why, what if they be ? 

La. What if they be ! 

62 Faith. Q4-F, Marry. 



Scene I.] pf)ilaSftet l6l 

Meg. Good madam, let her go on. — What 
if they be ? Why if they be, I will justifie, they 85 
cannot maintaine discourse with a judicious lady, 
nor make a leg, nor say, " excuse me." 
, Gal. Ha, ha, ha ! 

Meg. Doe you laugh, madam ? 

Dion. Your desires upon you, ladyes. 90 

Meg. Then you must sit beside us. 

Dion. I shall sit neere you then, lady. 

Meg, Neare me, perhaps : but there's a lady 
endures no stranger ; and to me you appeare a 
very strange fellow. 95 

La. Me thinkes he's not so strange; he would 
quickly bee acquainted. 

Thra. Peace, the King. 

Enter King, Pharamond, Arethusa^ and Traine. 

King. To give a stronger testemony of love 
Then sickly promises (which commonly 100 

In princes finde both birth and buriall 
In one breath) we have drawne you, worthy sir. 
To make your faire indearements to our daugh- 
ter. 
And worthy services knowne to our subjects, 

97 quickly bee, Q3-F, Q2, quickly to bee. 
Arethusa. Qz spells Arathusa and abbreviates Ara. throughout 
the play. 

99 stronger. (24-F, stranger. 
103 our. (25-F, your. 104 our. ^3, 24, your. 



1 62 pijila^trr [acti. 

Now lov'd and wondered at ; next, our intent, 105 
To plant you deepely, our immediate heire. 
Both to our blood and kingdomes. For this lady, 
(The best part of your life, as you confirme me, 
And I beleeve) though her few yeeres and sex 
Yet teach her nothing but her feares and blushes, no 
Desires without desire, discourse and know- 
ledge 
Onely of what her selfe is to her selfe. 
Make her feele moderate health; and when she 

sleepes. 
In making no ill day, knowes no ill dreames. 
Thinke not, deare sir, these undivided parts, "5 
That must mould up a virgin, are put on 
To shew her so, as borrowed ornaments. 
To speake her perfect love to you, or adde 
An artificiall shaddow to her nature — 
No sir, I boldly dare proclaime her yet lao 

No woman. But wooe her still, and thinke her 

modesty, 
A sweeter mistrisse then the ofFerM language 
Of any dame, were she a queene, whose eye 
Speaks common loves and comforts to her serv- 
ants. 
Last, noble sonne, (for so I now must call you) 125 
What I have done thus publique, is not onely 

118 speake^ Q3-F- Q^> ^^ll^e of. 

124 comforts. Ql, comfort. 126 onely. Q^i omits. 



Scene I.] ^f^iUmt 163 

To adde [a] comfort in particular 

To you or me, but all ; and to confirme 

The nobles, and the gentry of these kingdomes, 

By oath to your succession, which shall be 130 

Within this moneth, at most. 

Thra. This will be hardly done. 
Ck, It must be ill done, if it be done. 
Dion. When tis at best, twill be but halfe 
done. 
Whilst so brave a gentleman is wrong'd and 

flung off. 135 

Thra. I feare. 
Cle. Who does not? 

Dion. I feare not for my selfe, and yet I feare 
too. 
Well, we shall see, we shall see. No more. 
Pharamond. Kissing your white hand, mis- 
trisse, I take leave 140 

To thanke your royall father ; and thus farre. 
To be my owne free trumpet. Understand, 
Great King, and these your subjects, mine that 

must be, 
(For so deserving you have spoke me, sir. 
And so deserving I dare speake my self) 145 

To what a person, of what eminence. 
Ripe expectation, of what faculties, 

127 adde a, Q3-F. Qz omits a. 

129 these kingdomes. Qi, our kingdome. 134 /«. (^i,itis. 



1 64 p^itoter [act i. 

Manners and vertues, you would wed your king- 
domes ; 
You in me have your wishes. Oh, this countrey ! 
By more then all the gods I hold it happy; j^q 
Happy, in their deare memories that have bin 
Kings great and good ; happy in yours, that is ; 
And from you (as a chronicle to keepe 
Your noble name from eating age) doe I 
Opine my selfe most happy. Gentlemen, 155 

Beleeve me. in a word, a princes word, 
There shall be nothing to make up a kingdome 
Mighty, and flourishing, defenced, fear'd, 
Equall to be commanded and obeyed. 
But through the travells of my life I'le finde it, 160 
And tye it to this countrey. By all the gods. 
My reigne shall be so easie to the subject. 
That every man shall be his prince himselfe, 
And his owne lawe ; yet I his prince and law. 
And, deerest lady, to your deerest selfe, 165 

(Deere, in the choyce of him, whose name and 

lustre 
Must make you more and mightier) let me say, 

149 Tou in me. Qi, and in me. your. Q2 misprints, you. 

150 a// the gods. Q4-F, all my hopes. 
152 happy. Q5-F omit. 

154 eating. Qi, rotting. 155 Opine^ F. Qq, Open. 

160 travells. Mod. Edd., travails. Jinje it. Qi, finde it out. 

161 By all the gods. Q4-F, And I vow. 

162 io , . . subject. Qi, as . . . subjects. 



Scene!.] ^)^ilSimt 1 65 

You are the blessedst living; for, sweete prin- 

cesse, 
You shall injoy a man of men to be 
Your servant ; you shall make him yours, for 

whom 170 

Great queenes must die. 
Thra. Miraculous ! 

Cle. This speech calls him Spaniard, beeing 
nothing but a large inventory of his owne com- 
mendations. 175 
Dion. I wonder what's his price? for cer- 
tainely 
Hee'll sell himselfe, he has so praisde his shape. 

Ent[er'] Philaster. 

But heere comes one more worthy those large 

speeches 
Than the large speaker of them ; 
Let mee bee swallowed quicke, if I can finde, 180 
In all the anatomy of yon mans vertues. 
One sinnew sound enough to promise for him, 

172 Miraculous! Qi, Miracles. 

176-185 I ivonder . . . judgement. Qq and F print as prose; 
verse first in ed. 171 1. 

177 sell. Q6, F, tell, bimselfe . . . prats' d. Qi, him . . . 
be praised. 

Enter Philaster^ so placed in Qi ; in Q2, after line 175. 

178 speeches. Qi, praises. 

1 81-182 In . . . enough. Q'j ^11 the Anatomy of yon man's 
vertues unseene to sound enough. 



1 66 pjilafifter [acti. 

He shall be constable. By this sunne, 

Hee'll ne're make king, unlesse it be of trifles, 

In my poore judgement. 185 

Philaster. Right noble sir, as low as my obe- 
dience, 
And with a heart as loyall as my knee, 
I beg your favour. 

King, Rise, you have it sir. 

Dion. Marke but the King how pale he lookes, 
he feares ! 
Oh, this same whoreson conscience, how it jades 

us ! 19& 

King, Speake your intents sir. 

Phi. Shall I speake um freely ? 

Be still my royall Soveraigne. 

King. As a subject 

We give you freedome. 

Dion. Now it heates. 

Phi. Then thus I turne 

My language to you, prince, you forraigne man ! 
Ne*re stare, nor put on wonder, for you must 195 

183-185 He . . . Ja^^emewr, division of lines as in B J D prints 
as two lines, ending the first with king. 
184 of trifles. Q4-F, D, for trifles. 
187 j4nd. gi omits. 188 your. Qi, for. 

189 lookes^ he feares! Q4-F, D, looks with fear. 

190 Ob . . . boiv. (^i, And ... ah how. 

191 intents. Q2, intent. um. Ql, on. 
193 turne. Q5, turnd. 

195 for. Qi omits. 



Scene!.] ^^ilSimt 1 67 

Indure me, and you shall. This earth you tread 

upon 
(A dowry as you hope with this faire princesse), 
By my dead father (oh, I had a father 
Whose memory I bow to !) was not left 
To your inheritance, and I up and living, — 200 
Having my selfe about me, and my sword, 
The soules of all my name, and memories. 
These armes, and some few friends, beside the 

gods, — 
To part so calmely with it, and sit still, 
And say, " I might have beene." I tell thee, 

Pharamond, 205 

When thou art king, looke I be dead and rotten. 
And my name ashes, as I : for, heare me, Phara- 
mond, 
This very ground thou goest on, this fat earth. 
My fathers friends made fertile with their faiths. 
Before that day of shame, shall gape and swallow aio 
Thee and thy nation, like a hungry grave. 
Into her hidden bowells : prince, it shall ; 
By the just gods it shall. 

Pha. He's mad beyond cure, mad. 

I gj faire. Q I, sweet. 

198-199 By . . . left. Qq and F transpose these two lines; the 
order in the text is due to Th. 
203 beside^ S^> SS- Q^ ^' '^^•j besides. 

207 as I. S4-F, D, omit. 212 ber. Qi, his. 

213 By the just gods. Q4-F, D, By Nemesis. 



1 68 pt)ila0ter [acti. 

Dion. Here's a fellow has some fire in*s vaines : 
The outlandish prince lookes like a tooth- 
drawer. 215 

Phi. Sir, prince of poppingjayes, Fie make it 
well appeare 
To you, I am not mad. 

King. You displease us, 

You are too bold. 

Phi. No sir, I am too tame, 

Too much a turtle, a thing borne without pas- 
sion, 
A faint shaddow, that every drunken clow'd 

sayles over 220 

And makes nothing. 

King. I doe not fancie this. 

Call our physitions : sure he's somewhat tainted. 

Thra. I doe not thinke twill prove so. 

Dion. H'as given him a generall purge already. 
For all the right he has, and now he meanes 225 
To let him blood. Be constant, gentlemen. 
By heaven. Fie run his hazard. 
Although I run my name out of the kingdome. 

216 5/r . . . popping jayes, Vie. Qi, I . . . popines, I will. 

219 turtle. Qi, turcle. 221 makes. Qi, make. 

Ill— tiz fancie this . . . sure. Q^i, fancy this choUer, Sure. 

224 H'as. Q2, Has. 

224—228 H'as . . . kingdome^ as verse first by W. 

226-227 Be . . . run. Q I, be constant gentle heavens, I'll run. 

227 By heaven. Q4-D, by these hilts. 



Scene I.] ^J^iU&ttt 1 69 

Cle. Peace, we are all one soule. 

Pba. What you have scene in me to stirre 

offence, 230 

I cannot finde, unlesse it be this lady, 
Offer'd into mine armes, with the succession, 
Which I must keepe (though it hath pleasd your 

fury 
To muteny within you) without disputing 
Your geneolegies, or taking knowledge 235 

Whose branch you are. The King will leave it 

me. 
And I dare make it mine ; you have your answer. 

Phi. If thou wert sole inheritor to him 
That made the world his, and couldst see no 

sunne 
Shine upon anything but thine ; were Pharamond 240 
As truely valiant as I feele him cold. 
And ringd amongst the choycest of his friends. 
Such as would blush to talke such serious follies, 
Or backe such bellied commendations, 
And from this presence, — spight of [all] these 

bugs, 245 

You should heare further from me. 

229 all. Q4'39-F omit. z^d it me. gi, it to me. 

238 ivert. Q4, Q5b, were. 

240 anything. Qsb, any thine; Q6, F, any. 

244 bellied, 23-F. Qi, Q2, belied. 

245 this presence. Qi, his presence; Q5-F, this present. 
spight . . . bugs, Q3-F. ^i , Spit all those bragges. Qz omits all. 



1 70 Ptlitotrr [Act I. 

King. Sir, you wrong the prince : 
I gave you not this freedome to brave our best 

friends ; 
You deserve our frowne. Go to, be better 
temper'd. 

Phi, It must be, sir, when I am nobler usde.250 

Gal. Ladyes, 
This would have beene a patterne of succession, 
Had he ne're met this mischiefe. By my life, 
He is the worthiest the true name of man 
This day within my knowledge. 255 

Meg. I cannot tell what you may call your 
knowledge, 
But the other is the man set in my eye : 
Oh, tis a prince of wax. 

Gal. A dog it is. 

King. Philaster, tell me. 
The injuries you aime at in your riddles. 260 

Phi. If you had my eyes, sir, and sufferance. 
My griefes upon you, and my broken fortunes. 
My wants great, and now nought but hopes and 
feares, 

248—249 to brave . . . froiune. Ql omits. 

250 nobler, (^i, noblier. 

251 Gal. Ladyes^ etc. (^i gives this speech to Leon (Dion). 

253 ne're. Ql, never. 

254 i/e /.f. gijthisis. 256 j7oar. (^i omits. 
257 theotberis. Qi, I'm sure tothers. my. Q6, F, Th, D, mine. 

262 griefes. Qi, griefe. 

263 wants. Q2, want's, nought buty Q4-F. Q1-Q3, nothing. 



Scene!.] ^^tlSi^ttt IJl 

My wrongs would make ill riddles to be laught 

at. 
Dare you be still my king and right me not ? 265 

King. Give me your wrongs in private. 

Phi. Take them ; 

And ease me of a load would bow strong Atlas. 

They whisper. 

Cle. He dares not stand the shock. 

Dion. I cannot blame him, there's danger in't. 
Every man in this age has not a soule of christall,27o 
for all men to reade their actions through : mens 
hearts and faces are so farre asunder that they 
hold no intelligence. Doe but view yon stranger 
well, and you shall see a feaver through all his 
bravery, and feele him shake like a true tenant \zj^ 
if he give not back his crowne againe upon the 
report of an elder gun, I have no augury. 

King. Goe to : 
Be more your selfe, as you respect our favour ; 
You'l stirre us else ; sir I must have you know, 280 

265 not. Ql, Q2, omit. 
266-267 Take . . . Atlas. Q^i omits. 
They 'whisper. Qq, F, after private, 1. 266. 
270-272 has . . . faces. Qi, has a soule of Christall, to read 
their actions, though men's faces. 

273 Doe. Qi omits. yon. Qi, the. 

274 through. Qi, throw, 

275 bra-very, gi, braveries. true tenant. Q I, true truant. 
See Notes. 

280 have. Qi, am. 



172 l^tlitoCer [Act I. 

That y'are, and shall be, at our pleasure, what 

fashion we 
Will put upon you. Smooth your brow, or by 
the gods — 
Phi. I am dead, sir, y'are my fate. It was 
not I 
Said I was wrong'd : I carry all about me 
My weake stars leade me to ; all my weake for- 
tunes. J85 
Who dares in all this presence speake, (that is 
But man of flesh, and may be mortall) tell me, 
I doe not most intirely love this prince. 
And honour his full vertues ! 

King. Sure hee's possest. 

Phi. Yes, with my fathers spirit. It's here, 
O King, 290 

A dangerous spirit ! now he tells me. King, 
I was a kings heire, bids me be a king. 
And whispers to me, these are all my subjects. 
Tis strange, he will not let me sleepe, but dives 

281 y^are. Qi, W, D, you are. 

281-282 That . . . gods. D prints as three lines, ending, 
•what, broiVj gods. 

282 broiu, or. Qi, selfe, ore. 284 I ivas. Q4-F, I was not. 

285 leade. Q5-F, led. to. Qi-Q^, too. 

286 dares. Qi, dare. Qz includes speake in the parentheses; 
■Ql omits the parentheses. 

287 man. Q2, men. 289 Sure. Ql omits. 

290 spirit. It^s here. Ql, spirit is. 

291 now. Qiy and now. 292 be. Q5-F, are. 



Scene I] ^\)i\Si!Sttt 173 

Into my fancy, and there gives me shapes 295 

That kneele, and doe me service, cry me 

king : 
But rie suppresse him, he's a factious spirit. 
And will undoe me. — \_To Phar.'\ Noble sir, 

your hand, 
I am your servant. 

King. Away, I doe not like this : 

rie make you tamer, or Pie dispossesse you 300 
Both of [your] life and spirit. For this time 
I pardon your wild speech, without so much 
As your imprisonment. 

Exeunt K[ing'\y Pha\ramond'\y Are\thu- 
sa, and Attendants]^ . 
Dion. I thanke you, sir, you dare not for the 

people. 
Gal, Ladyes, what thinke you now of this 

brave fellow ? 305 

Meg. A pretty talking fellow, hot at hand. 
But eye yon stranger ; is he not a fine compleate 
gentleman ? O these strangers, I doe affect them 
strangely : they doe the rarest home things, and 
please the fullest! As I live, I could love all the 3^0 
nation over and over for his sake. 



301 your, Qi. Q2-F omit. 302 your. Qi omits. 

305 Gal. Ladyes, etc. Qi gives this speech to Tra. (Thrasiline). 
307 be not. ^6, F, not he. 310 I could. <^6, F, could I. 

3 1 0-3 1 1 the nation, gi, their nation. 



174 J^liila^ter [acti. 

Gal. Gods comfort your poore head-peece, 
lady, tis a weake one, and had need of a night 
cap. Exit Ladyes. 

Dion. See how his fancy labours, has he not 315 
Spoke home, and bravely ? what a dangerous 

traine 
Did he give fire to ! How he shooke the King, 
Made his soule melt within him, and his blood 
Run into whay ! It stood upon his brow 
Like a cold winter dew. 

Phi. Gentlemen, 320 

You have no suite to me ? I am no minion : 
You stand (me thinkes) like men that would be 

courtiers, 
If I could well be flatter'd at a price. 
Not to undoe your children. Y'are all honest : 
Goe, get you home againe, and make your 

countrey 325 

A vertuous court, to which your great ones 

may, 
In their diseased age, retire and live recluse. 

Cle. How doe you, worthy sir? 

312 Gal. Gods, etc. Ql gives this speech to "Lad." 
Gods. (24-F, Pride. 313 lady. Qi omits, had. gi, has. 

315 Qq and F end this line with spoke ; the division in the text 
is due to Th. 

323 /, W, D, B. Qq, F, you. See Notes. 

324 T^are. Qi, you are. 327 recluse. Ql, recluses. 
328 worthy. Qi, worth. 



Scene I] Pt|ila0ter 175 

Phi, Well, very well ; 

And so well, that if the King please, I finde 
I may live many yeares. 

Dion The King must please, 330 

Whilst we know what you are, and who you 

are. 
Your wrongs and vertues. Shrinke not, worthy 

sir. 
But ad your father to you ; in whose name, 
Wee'U waken all the gods, and conjure up 
The rods of vengeance, the abused people, 335 

Who, like to raging torrents, shall swell high. 
And so begirt the dens of these Male-dragons, 
That through the strongest safety, they shall beg 
For mercy at your swords point. 

Phi. Friends, no more ; 

Our eares may be corrupted : tis an age 34° 

We dare not trust our wills to. Do you love me ? 

Thra. Do we love heaven and honour ? 

Phi. My Lord Dion, you had 
A vertuous gentlewoman cald you father; 
Is she yet alive ? 

Dion. Most honored sir, she is ; 345 

329 Ifnde. Qi omits. 330 The. Qi, Sir, the. 

331 ivhat . . . 'wbo. Ql, who . . . what. 

332 -vertues, Ql, D, B. ^2-?, injuries. 

333 ^^- S^j call. 336 to. Ql omits. 

339 Friends, (^i, Friend. 340 eares. Q4'39-F, years. 

343 Dion. Qi, Lyon. 



176 pi^ilaSftfr [Act I. 

And for the penance but of an idle dreame, 
Has undertooke a tedious pilgrimage. 

Enter a Lady. 

Phi. Is it to me, or any of these gentlemen 

you come ? 
Lady. To you, brave lord ; the princesse 

would intreate 
Your present company. -.^ 

Phi. The princesse send for me ? you are 

mistaken. 
La. If you be cald Philaster, tis to you. 
Phi. Kisse her faire hand, and say I will attend 

her. {Exit LadyJ] 

Dion. Doe you know what you doe ? 
Phi. Yes, goe to see a woman. 355 

Cle. But doe you weigh the danger you are in ? 
Phi. Danger in a sweete face? 
By Jupiter, I must not feare a woman. 

Thra. But are you sure it was the princesse 

sent ? 
It may be some foule traine to catch your life. 360 

346 the. Qi, a. 

Enter a Lady. Qi has after 1. 344, Enter a Gentlewoman j and 
at 11. 349, 352, for La. reads, Gent- Woo. 

348 h . . . these. Qi, I'stto me, or to any of these. D, B, 
begin a new verse-line with Or. 

351 you are, Qi. Q2-F, Y'are. 

352 to. Qi omits. 353 faire. Q4-F omit. 
Exit Lady. (;^i , Exit Gent- Woo ; g^-F omit. 



Scene II.] ^\)Mmt 177 

Phi. I doe not thinke it, gentlemen; she's 
noble. 
Her eye may shoote me dead, or those true red 
And white friends in her cheekes may steale my 

soul out ; 
There's all the danger in't : but be what may. 
Her single name hath arm'd me. 

Exif Phil\_aster\ . 
Dion, Goe on : 365 

And be as truely happy as th'art fearelesse ! — 
Come, gentlemen, let's make our friends ac- 
quainted. 
Least the King prove false. Exit Gentlemen. 

[Scene II. 

Arethusa* s Apartment in the Palace. "^ 

Enter Arethusa and a Lady. 

Arethusa. Comes he not ? 
Lady. Madam ? 

Are, Will Philaster come ? 

La. Deare madam, you were wont 
To credit me at first. 

361 doe. gl, dare. 

363 friends, ^i, fiend friends. cheekes^ Qi. Q2-F, face. 

366 tFart. Qi, 26, F, thou art. 

Enter . . . Lady. Qi, Enter Princesse and her Gentlewoman. 
Qi throughout the scene reads *' Prin " for Are., and " Woo" 
for La. 3 at first. Qi, at the first. 



178 pi)ila0ter [acti. 

Are. But didst thou tell me so ? 
I am forgetful!, and my womans strength 5 

Is so o'recharg'd with dangers like to grow 
About my marriage, that these under things 
Dare not abide in such a troubled sea : 
How lookt he, when he told thee he would 
come ? 

La, Why, well. 10 

Are, And not a little fearfull ? 

La. Feare, madam! sure, he knowes not what 
it is. 

Are. You all are of his faction ; the whole 
court 
Is bold in praise of him, whilst I 
May live neglected, and doe noble things, 15 

As fooles in strife throw gold into the sea, 
Drownd in the doing. But I know he feares ? 

La. Feare, madam ! me thought his lookes 
hid more 
Of love than feare. 

Are. Of love ? To whom ? To you ? 

Did you deliver those plaine words I sent, %o 

With such a winning jeasture and quicke looke, 
That you have caught him ? 

6 dangers. F, danger. 8 Dare, ^i, dares. 

1 3 all are. Q4-F, are all. 
18 Feare. Qi o^aits. me thought. Q I "^ee thoughts. 

21 •winning. Qi, woing. looke. Ql, looks. 

22 him. Qi omits. 



Scene II.] ^^h^ttt 179 

La. Madam, I meane to you. 

Jre. Of love to me ! Alas ! thy ignorance 
Lets thee not see the crosses of our births. 
Nature, that loves not to be questioned 25 

Why she did this, or that, but has her ends, 
And knowes she does well, never gave the world 
Two things so opposite, so contrary. 
As he and I am. If a bowle of blood 
Drawne from this arme of mine would poyson 

thee, 30 

A draught of his would cure thee. Of love to 
me ! 

La. Madam, I think I heare him. 

j^re. Bring him in. J^Exit Lady.~\ 

You gods that would not have your doomes 

withstood. 
Whose holy wisdomes at this time it is. 
To make the passions of a feeble maide, 35 

The way unto your justice ; I obay. 

La. Here is my Lord Philaster. 

Enter Phil\_aster\. 

Are. Oh, tis well : 

Withdraw your selfe. 

26 her. Qi, his. 

28 T1V0. Ql, To. contrary. Qi, bound to put. 

30 of mine, ^i omits. 31 Of. gi omits. 

33 ivould. ^i, will. doomes. (^i, dens. 

35 passions. Q4-F, passion. 

36 unto. Qi, into. 37 tis. Qi, Q2, it is. 



i8o jaijilafifter [acti. 

Phtlaster. Madam, your messenger 

Made me beleeve, you wish'd to speake with me. 

Are. Tis true, Philaster ; but the words are 
such, 40 

I have to say, and doe so ill beseeme 
The mouth of woman, that I wish them sayd. 
And yet am loth to speake them. Have you 

knowne. 
That I have ought detracted from your worth ? 
Have I in person wrong'd you ? or have set 45 
My baser instruments to throw disgrace 
Upon your vertues ? 

Phi. Never, madam, you. 

Jre. Why then should you in such a publike 
place. 
Injure a princesse, and a scandall lay 
Upon my fortunes, fam'd to be so great, 50 

Calling a great part of my dowry in question ? 

Phi. Madam, this truth which I shall speake 
will be 
Foolish : but, for your faire and vertuous selfe, 
I could afPoord my selfe to have no right 
To any thing you wish'd. 

Jre. Philaster, know, 55 

I must enjoy these kingdomes. 

Phi. Madam, both ? 

41 doe. Qi, dos. beseeme. Qi, become. 

49 Injure. Qi, Injury. t,o farn d. Qi, found. 

53 and. Qi omits. 



Scene II.] pj^tlaSftrt l8l 

Are. Both, or I dye : by heaven I die, Philas- 
ter, 
If I not calmly may enjoy them both. 

Phi. I would doe much to save that noble life ; 
Yet would be loth to have posterity 60 

Plnd in our stories that Philaster gave 
His right unto a scepter and a crowne. 
To save a ladies longing. 

Are. Nay then, heare . 

I must and will have them, and more — 

Phi. What, more ? 

Are. Or lose that little life the gods prepared 65 
To trouble this poore peece of earth withall. 

Phi. Madam, what more ? 

Are. Turne then away thy face. 

Phi. No. 

Are. Doe. 

Phi. I can indure it. Turne away my face ? 70 
I never yet saw enemy that lookt 
So dreadfully but that I thought my selfe 
As great a basiliske as he ; or spake 
So horrible but that I thought my tongue 
Bore thunder underneath, as much as his ; 75 

Nor beast that I could turne from : shall I then 

57 4v^- Qij <lo- hea-ven. 23-F, Fate. 

58 may. Qi, die. 70 can. Q3-F, W, cannot. 
71 yet saw. Qi, saw, yet. 72 dreadfully. F, dreadful. 

73 spake. Qi, speake. 

74 horrible. Q3-F, horribly. 



l82 ^^iU^ttt [Act I. 

Beginne to feare sweete sounds ? a ladies voyce, 
Whom I doe love ? Say you would have my 

life; 
Why, I will give it you, for it is of me 
A thing so loath'd, and unto you that aske 80 

Of so poore use, that I shall make no price. 
If you intreate, I will unmov'dly heare. 

jfre. Yet, for my sake, a little bend thy lookes. 

Phi. I doe. 

j^re. Then know I must have them, and 

thee. 

Phi. And me ? 

j^re. Thy love : without which, all the 

land 85 

Discovered yet, will serve me for no use 
But to be buried in. 

Phi. 1st possible ? 

Jre. With it, it were too little to bestow 
On thee. Now, though thy breath doe strike me 

dead 
(Which, know, it may) I have unript my brest. 90 

Phi. Madam, you are too full of noble thoughts. 
To lay a traine for this contemned life. 
Which you may have for asking : to suspect 

77 a ladies voyce. Qi, a womans tongue. 

80 aske. (^i, beg. 8i no price. Q5, unprice. 

85 Tby. Q5a, the. 89 doe. Ql omits ; Q5-F, doth. 

93 may have. Ql, might have. 



Scene II.] J^tjlla^ter 1 83 

Were base, where I deserve no ill. Love you ! 
By all my hopes, I doe, above my life ! 95 

But how this passion should proceed from you, 
So violently, would amaze a man 
That would be jealous. 

Are, Another soule into my body shot, 
Could not have fild me with more strength and 

spirit, 100 

Than this thy breath. But spend not hasty time. 
In seeking how I came thus : tis the gods. 
The gods, that make me so ; and sure our love 
Will be the nobler and the better blest. 
In that the secret justice of the gods 105 

Is mingled with it. Let us leave and kisse. 
Lest some unwelcome guest should fall betwixt 

us. 
And we should part without it. 

Phi. Twill be ill, 

I should abide here long. 

Are. Tis true ; and worse. 

You should come often. How shall we devise no 
To hold intelligence that our true loves. 
On any new occasion may agree 
What path is best to tread \ 

Phi. I have a boy, 

103 The gods. Ql omits. 

104 nobler. Qi, worthier. 107 univelcome. Qi, unwelcom'd. 
Ill loves. Q6, F, lovers. 112 any. Qi, an. 



1 84 l^ljitoter [Act I. 

Sent by the gods, I hope to this intent, 

Not yet seen in the court. Hunting the bucke,ii5 

I found him, sitting by a fountaine side, 

Of which he borrow'd some to quench his thirst. 

And payd the nymph againe as much in teares ; 

A garland lay him by, made by himselfe, 

Of many severall flowers, bred in the vayle, 120 

Stucke in that mysticke order, that the rarenesse 

Delighted me ; but ever when he turnd 

His tender eyes upon um, he would weepe. 

As if he meant to make um grow againe. 

Seeing such pretty helplesse innocence 125 

Dwell in his face, I ask'd him all his story. 

He told me that his parents gentle dyed. 

Leaving him to the mercy of the fields. 

Which gave him rootes ; and of the christall 

springs. 
Which did not stop their courses; and the sun, 130 
Which still, he thank'd him, yielded him his 

light. 
Then tooke he up his garland, and did shew. 
What every flower as countrey people hold. 
Did signifie, and how all, ordered thus, 

lid fountaine J Ql, F. Q2-Q6, fountaines. 

118 againe as much. Ql, as much againe. 

120 "vayley gi. (^2-F, bay. 123 eyes. Qi, eye. 

124 um. Qi, them. 

130 their courses. Ql, the course. 

131 him . . . light, (^i, it . . . life. 



Scene II.] J^t)itoter 1 85 

Exprest his griefe ; and, to my thoughts, did reade 135 
The prettiest lecture of his countrey art 
That could be wisht ; so that, me thought, I could 
Have studied it. I gladly entertaind 
Him who was glad to follow ; and have got 
The trustiest, lovingst, and the gentlest boy, 140 
That ever maister kept. Him will I send 
To waite on you, and beare our hidden love. 
Are. Tis well, no more. 

Enter Lady. 

La. Madam, the prince is come to doe his 

service. 
Are. What will you doe, Philaster, with your 

selfe ? 145 

Phi. Why, that which all the gods have 

pointed out for me. 
Are. Deare, hide thy self. — 
Bring in the prince. [Exit Lady.'] 

Phi. Hide me from Pharamond? 

When thunder speakes, which is the voyce of 

God, 

137 me thought. Q I, me thoughts. 

138-139 Ha-ve . . . got, D's arrangement of lines. Qa-F 
end first line with him ,• Q^i prints as prose. 
11^ who. 2i, whom. Enter Lady. Qi, Enter woman. 

145 doe, Philaster. gl, Phylaster doe. 

146 pointed out, W, D, B. Qq, F, appointed out. 
147-148 Deare . . . prince. <^q, F, as one line. 
149 God. 24- F, Jove. 



l86 l^llitoter [Act I. 

Though I doe reverence, yet I hide me not; 150 
And shall a stranger prince have leave to brag 
Unto a forraigne nation, that he made 
Philaster hide himselfe. 

Are. He cannot know it. 

Phi. Though it should sleepe for ever to the 
world. 
It is a simple sinne to hide my selfe, 155 

Which will for ever on my conscience lie. 

Are. Then, good Philaster, give him scope and 
way 
In what he sayes ; for he is apt to speake 
What you are loth to heare : for my sake, doe. 

Phi. I will. 160 

Enter Pharamond. 
Pharamond. My princely mistrisse, as true 
lovers ought, 
I come to kisse these faire hands, and to shew, 
In outward ceremonies, the deare love 
Writ in my heart. 

Phi. If I shall have an answer no directlier, 165 
I am gone. 

150 yet . . . not. Qi, yet I doe not hide my selfe. 
159 for my sake^ doe. Qi omits. 

Enter Pharamond. Qi, Enter Pharamont and a woman. D, B, 
Reenter Lady with Pharamond ; and after 1. 1 62, Exit Lady. 

164 Writ in. (^i, within. 

165 no directlier. Qi, or no, derectly. 



Scene II.] ^^hmX 187 

Pha. To what would he have answer ? 

^re. To his claime unto the kingdome. 

Pha. Sirra, I forbare you before the King. — 

Phi. Good sir, doe so still ; I would not talke 

with you. 170 

Pha. But now the time is fitter, doe but offer 
To make mention of right to any kingdome. 
Though it be scarce habitable — 

Phi. Good sir, let me goe. 

Pha. And by the gods — 

Phi. Peace Pharamond ! if thou — 

j^re. Leave us, Philaster. 

Phi. I have done. 175 

Pha. You are gone : by heaven I'le fetch you 
backe. 

Phi. You shall not need. 

Pha. What now ? 

Phi. Know, Pharamond, 

I loathe to brawle with such a blast as thou. 
Who art nought but a valiant voyce ; but if 
Thou shalt provoke me further, men shall say, 180 
Thou wert, and not lament it. 

167 ivbat ivould. (^i, what? what would, ansiver. Q5-F, 
an answer. 

173 be. Ql, lie. 

174 ibe gods. Q4-D, my sword. thou. Qi, then. 

176 Pba. Tou . . . backe. Q^l omits; though "Pha. You" 
appear as catch-words at the bottom of the page. 
179 nought. Qx, nothing. 



1 88 jai^itoter [Act I. 

Pha. Doe you slight 

My greatnesse so ? and in the chamber of the 
princesse ? 

Phi. It is a place to which, I must confesse, 
I owe a reverence : but wer't the church, 
I, at the altar, there's no place so safe, 185 

Where thou darst injure me, but I dare kill thee : 
And for your greatnesse, know sir, I can graspe 
You and your greatnesse thus, thus into nothing. 
Give not a word, not a word backe ! Farewell. 

Exit \_Philaster]. 

Pha. Tis an odd fellow, madam, we must stop 190 
His mouth with some office when we are married. 

Are. You were best make him your con- 
trowler. 

Pha. I thinke he would discharge it well. 
But, madam, 
I hope our hearts are knit ; but yet so slow 
The ceremonies of state are, that twill be long 195 
Before our hands be so. If then you please, 
Being agreed in heart, let us not wayte 
For dreaming forme, but take a little stolne 
Delights, and so prevent our joyes to come. 

182 so. Qi, so much. 

184-185 but . . . altar. Qi, but wert the Church at the high 
Altar. 
186 injure. Ql, injurie. 1 87 sir. Ql omits. 

193 But. (^i omits. 194 but yet. Q4-F, D, B, and yet. 

196 bands. Qi, hearts. If then. Qi, then if. 

198 forme. F, for me. 



Scene II.] ^}^ilSi&ttV 1 89 

Jre. If you dare speake such thoughts, ^^^ 

I must withdraw in honour. Exit Are\_thusa\ . 

Pha. The constitution of my body will 
never hold out till the wedding ; I must seeke 
elsewhere. — Exit Ph\^aramond'\. 

200 such. Qi, your. 



Actus 2. Sccena I. 
\_^n Apartment in the Palace. '\ 

Enter Philaster and Beliario. 

Philaster. And thou shalt finde her honourable, 
boy, 
Full of regard unto thy tender youth ; 
For thine owne modesty, and for my sake, 
Apter to give then thou wilt be to aske, 
I, or deserve. 

Beliario. Sir, you did take me up 
When I was nothing ; and onely yet am some- 
thing, 
By being yours. You trusted me unknowne. 
And that which you were apt to conster 
A simple innocence in me, perhaps. 
Might have been craft, the cunning of a boy 
Hardned in lies and theft; yet venter'd you. 
To part my miseries and me ; for which, 
I never can expect to serve a lady 
That beares more honour in her breast then you. 

and Beliario. Qi, and his boy called Beliario. Ql has 
<< Boy " for Bell, or Beliario throughout the play. 

4-10 Apter . . , boy. Th's division, followed by D and B. 
Qq and F end lines with deserve^ nothings ^o"^^> '^/''> '" '"^j ^<iy« 

6 and onely yet am. Qi, And I am onely yet. 

8 were. F, are. lo craft. Ql, crafty. 



Scene I.] pi)ila0ter I9I 

Phi. But, boy, it will preferre thee. Thou art 

young, 15 

And bear'st a childish overflowing love 
To them that clap thy cheekes, and speake thee 

faire yet ; 
But when thy judgement comes to rule those 

passions. 
Thou wilt remember best those carefull friends 
That plac'd thee in the noblest way of life : 20 
She is a princesse I preferre thee to. 

Bell. In that small time that I have seene the 

world, 
I never knew a man hasty to part 
With a servant he thought trusty : I remember. 
My father would preferre the boyes he kept 25 

To greater men then he, but did it not 
Till they were growne too sawcy for himselfe. 
Phi. Why, gentle boy, I finde no fault at all 
In thy behaviour. 

Bell. Sir, if I have made 

A fault of ignorance, instruct my youth : 30 

I shall be willing, if not apt, to learne ; 
Age and experience will adorne my mind 
With larger knowledge ; and if I have done 

16 bear'' St, Qi. Q2-F, bearest. 

17 c/ap. Qi, claps. yet. Qi omits. 

18 tAy. Qi omits. to. Ql, no. 

23-24 / ne-ver . . . remember. Th, D, end 1. 23 with ivith. 
27 groivne. Qi omits. 



192 l^ljila^ter [acth. 

A wilful fault, thinke me not past all hope 
For once. What master holds so strict a hand 35 
Over his boy, that he will part with him 
Without one warning ? Let me be corrected, 
To breake my stubbornnesse, if it be so. 
Rather then turn me off ; and I shall mend. 

Phi. Thy love doth plead so prettily to stay, 40 
That (trust me) I could weepe to part with 

thee. 
Alas, I doe not turne thee off: thou knowest 
It is my businesse that doth call thee hence ; 
And when thou art with her, thou dwellest with 

me. 
Thinke so, and tis so : and when time is full, 45 
That thou hast well discharged this heavy trust, 
Laid on so weake a one, I will againe 
With joy receive thee ; as I live, I will. 
Nay, weepe not, gentle boy. Tis more then 

time 
Thou didst attend the princesse. 

Bell. I am gone. 50 

But since I am to part with you, my lord, 
And none knowes whether I shall live to doe 
More service for you, take this little praier : 

39 Rather. Q2 misprints, Rathet. 40 doth. Ql, dos. 

41 trust. Qx misprints, tust. 42 knowest. Q^i^ knowst. 

43 doth. Qi, dos. 

44 divellest. Q^iy dwest j Q3-F, dwel'st. 



Scene II.] JBl)ila0ter 193 

Heaven blesse your loves, your fights, all your 

deslgnes ; 
May sicke men, if they have your wish, be well ; 55 
And heaven hate those you curse, though I be 

one ! Exit. 

Phi. The love of boyes unto their lords is 

strange ; 
I have read wonders of it ; yet this boy 
For my sake (if a man may judge by lookes 
And speech) would out-doe story. I may see 60 
A day to pay him for his loyalty. 

Exit Phi[laster]. 

[Scene II. 

A Gallery in the Palace. '\ 

Enter Pharamond^ 

Pharamond. Why should these ladyes stay so 
long ? They must come this way ; I know the 
queene imployes um not, for the reverend mo- 
ther sent mee word they would all bee for the 
garden. If they should all prove honest now, I 5 
were in a faire taking ; I was never so long 
without sport in my life, and, in my conscience, 
tis not my fault. Oh, for our countrey ladyes ! 

c^^ fights. Qi, sighes. 56 hea-ven. Qi, F, Heavens. 

57 lords. Q3, Lord. 60 may. Qi, must. 

7 sport, gi, sport before. 



194 P^ilaSJtet [Act II. 

Enter Galatea^ 

Heere's one boulted ; Fie hound at her. — [Ma- 
dam !] 

Galatea. Your grace ! lo 

Pha. Shall I not be a trouble ? 

Gal. Not to me sir. 

Pha. Nay, nay, you are too quicke ; by this 
sweete hand — 

Gal. You'l be forsworn, sir; tis but an old 
glove. 
If you will talke at distance, I am for you : 
But, good prince, be not bawdy, nor doe not 

brag: 15 

These two I barre. 

And then I thinke, I shall have sence enough, 
To answer all the waighty apothegmes 
Your roiall blood shall manage. 

Pha. Deare lady, can you love ? ao 

Gal. Deare prince, how deare ? I ne're cost 
you a coach yet, nor put you to the deare re- 
pentance of a banquet. Heere's no scarlet, sir, 

Enter Galatea^ placed as in ^l . Q2-F place after at her. 
9 one . . . hound. Q5a, on . . . bound. Madam. Only Ql. 
12 you are. Ql, y'are. 

13-19 You'l be . . . manage. Division of lines as in Th, D, 
B ) Q^Ij F, print as prose. 

15 But. Qi omits, 16 / barre. Ql, I onely barre. 

22 coach. Qi, couch. 

23 a banquet. Qi, a play and a banquet. 



Scene II.] ^\)ihmX 1 95 

to blush the sinne out it was given for. This 
wyer mine owne haire covers ; and this face has ^5 
beene so farre from beeing deare to any, that it 
ne're cost penny painting; and for the rest of 
my poore wardrobe, such as you see, it leaves 
no hand behind it, to make the jealous mercers 
wife curse our good doings. 30 

Pha. You mistake me, lady. 

Gal. Lord, I doe so : would you or I could 
helpe it ! 

\_Pha. Y'are very dangerous bitter, like a po- 
tion. 

Gal. No, sir, I do not mean to purge you. 
Though I meane to purge a little time on you.] 35 

Pha. Do ladyes of this countrey use to give 
No more respect to men of my full being ? 

Gai. Full being ? I understand you not, un- 
lesse your grace meanes growing to fatnesse ; 
and then your onely remedy (upon my know- 40 

24-25 to blush . . . face. Qi, to make you blush, this is my 
owne hayre, and this face. 

27 penny, gl, QS^, a peny. 

28 ivardrobe. Ql, Q6 wardrop ; Qsb, wardrope. 

29 mercers. Ql, silke-mans. 

30 our good doings. Qi, our doing. 

31 mistake. Qi, mucla mistake. 32 Gal. F misprints " Pha." 
33-35 Pha. . . .you. Only in gi ; there as prose j verse- 
division by D. 

36—37 Do . . . being. Verse-division by Th, D, B j prose in 

Qq,F. 



196 pi)ila0ter [acth. 

ledge, prince) is, in a morning, a cuppe of neatc 
white wine, brewd with carduus ; then fast till 
supper ; about eight you may eate : use exercise, 
and keepe a sparrow-hawke, — you can shoot in 
a tiller : but of all, your grace must flie phlebo- 45 
tomie, fresh porke, conger, and clarified whay; 
they are all dullers of the vitall spirits. 

Pha. Lady, you talke of nothing all this while. 

Gal. Tis very true, sir, I talke of you. 

Pha. This is a crafty wench ; I like her wit 50 
well ; twill bee rare to stirre up a leaden appe- 
tite: she's a Danae, and must be courted in a 
showre of gold. — Madam, look here, all these, 
and more, then — 

Gal. What have you there, my lord ? Gold ! 55 
Now, as I live, tis faire gold : you would have 
silver for it to play with the pages ; you could 
not have taken me in a worse time ; but if you 
have present use, my lord, I'le send my man 
with silver, and keepe your gold for you. 60 

Pha. Lady, lady ! 

42 carduus. Qly Qz, cardus. 43 eight. Q I, five. 

46 conger. Qlj and Conger. 

47 are all. Qi, are. spirits. Ql, anymales. 

48 'while. Qi, time. 

52 a Danae. Qi, daintie. in. Ql, with. 
54 TnorCy then — . D, B, more than — . 55 ha-ve. Qi, ha. 
56—57 you tuould . . .for it. Qi, you'd . . . fort. 
58 time. Qi, time sir. 60 gold for. Qi, B, gold safe for. 

Qi adds, She slips behind the Orras. 



Scene II.] ^\)ilSi&ttt 197 

Gal. She's comming, sir, behind, will take 
white mony. 
^Jside.'j Yet for all this He match yee. 

Exii Gal[atea\ behind the hangings, 
Pha. If there be but two such more in this 
kingdome, and neere the court, we may even 65 
hang up our harpes : ten such camphier consti- 
tutions as this would call the golden age againe 
in question, and teach the old way for every ill 
fac't husband to get his owne children ; and 
what a mischiefe that would breed, let all con- y© 
sider. 

Enter Megra. 

Heere's another : if she be of the same last, the 
devill shall plucke her on. — Many faire morn- 
ings, lady ! 

Megra. As many mornings bring as many 
dales, 75 

Faire, sweete, and hopeful! to your grace. 

Pha, ^aside~\ . She gives good words yet : sure 
this wench is free. — 
If your more serious businesse doe not call you, 

62-63 ^'^^- S^^^^ camming . . . hangings. Ql reads : 
Shes comming sir behind, 
Will ye take white money yet for all this. Exit. 

64-65 but . . . kingdome. Qi, but two such in this Kingdome 
more j F omits but. 

65 e-ven. Qi, ene. 67 ivou/d, Ql. ^^-F, will. 

78 call you. Qi, call you Lady. 



198 JB^ilasfter [acth. 

Let me hold quarter with you ; wee'll talke an 

houre 
Out quickly. 

Meg. What would your grace talke of? 80 

Pha. Of some such pretty subject as your 
selfe. 
rie go no further then your eye, or lip; 
There's theame enough for one man for an age. 
Meg. Sir, they stand right, and my lips are 
yet even. 
Smooth, young enough, ripe enough, and red 

enough, ^5 

Or my glasse wrongs me. 

Pha. O, they are two twind cherries died in 
blushes. 
Which those faire sunnes above with their bright 

beames 
Reflect upon and ripen ! Sweetest beauty. 
Bow down those branches, that the longing taste 90 
Of the faint looker on may meete those blessings. 
And taste, and live. \Jhey kisse.'] 

Meg. O delicate sweete Prince ! 

She that hath snow enough about her heart 

79 talke. Q2, g6, F, take. D ends line with ta/ke. 
82 or. Qi, your. 83 theame. gl, time. 

85 and. Q4'39-F omit. 87 blushes. Qlj blush. 

88 bright. Qi, deepe. 

91 faint. Qi, sweete. those. <|^l, these. 

They kisse. Only in Ql. 



Scene II.] J^tjltotet 199 

To take the wanton spring of ten such lynes off, 
May be a nunne without probation. 95 

Sir, you have in such neate poetry gathered a 

kisse, 
That if I had but ifive lines of that number, 
Such pretty begging blankes, I should commend 
Your forehead, or your cheekes, and kisse you 
too. 
Pha. Doe it in prose ; you cannot misse it, 

madam, loo 

Meg. I shall, I shall. 

Pha. By my life [but] you shall not : 

rie prompt you first. \_Kisses her.'] Can you doe 
it now .? 
Meg. Me thinkes tis easie, now you ha don't 
before [me] . 
But yet I should sticke at it — \_Kisses him.'] 
Pha. Sticke till to morrow; 

rie ne're part you, sweetest. But we lose time; 105 
Can you love me } 

94 °ff- S^ omits. 

95 May . . . probation. Ql, it may be a number without 
Probatum. 

95-96 May . . . kisse. Verse-division as in Qq and Fj modern 
eds. end the first line with Sir ; Qi prints speech as prose. 
100 in. gi, by. loi but, Qi. 

102 Kisses her, W, D, B. 

103 noiu . . . me, Qi, D, Bj Q,2-F, now I ha don't before. 

104 But. Qi, And. / should. B, should I. 

Kisses him, editor. 105 ne^re. Ql, never. 



200 ^^iWttt [Act II. 

Meg. Love you, my lord ? How would you 
have me love you ? 

Pba. rie teach you in a short sentence, 'cause 
I will not load your memory ; this is all : love 
me, and lye with me. no 

Afeg. Was it lie with you that you sayd ? Tis 
impossible. 

Pba. Not to a willing minde, that will en- 
deavor ; if I doe not teach you to doe it as 
easily in one night as you'l goe to bed, I'le loosens 
my royall blood for*t. 

Meg. Why, prince, you have a lady of your 
owne that yet wants teaching. 

Pha. rie sooner teach a mare the old meas- 
ures then teach her any thing belonging to the 120 
function : she's afraid to lie with her selfe, if 
she have but any masculine imaginations about 
her. I know, when we are married, I must rav- 
ish her. 

Meg. By mine honor, that's a foule fault 125 
indeed, but time and your good helpe will weare 
it out, sir. 

107 me lo've you. Qi, me love ye. The line is printed as prose 
in Qq, F. 

1 1 7-1 1 8 Why . . . teaching. D, B, two verse lines, beginning 
the second with That. 

122 any . . . imaginations. Ql, my . . . imagination. 

125-127 By . . . sir. Qi, D, B, print as verse beginning 
second line with But. 

125 mine^ only Q2 ; Qq, F, D, B, my. that's. D, that is. 



Scene II.] J^tjltotft: 201 

Pha. And for any other I see, excepting your 
deare selfe, dearest lady, I had rather be Sir Tim 
the schoolemaster, and leape a dairye maid, 130 
madam. 

Meg, Has your grace seene the court-starre, 
Galatea ? 

Pha. Out upon her ! She's as could of her 
favour as an appoplex : she saild by but now. 135 

Meg. And how doe you hold her wit, sir ? 

Pha. I hold her wit ! The strength of all the 
guard cannot hold it ; if they were tied to it, 
she would blow um out of the kingdome. They 
talke of Jupiter, he's but a squib cracker to 140 
her : looke well about you, and you may finde a 
tongue-bolt. But speake, sweete lady, shall I be 
freely welcome ? 

Meg. Whither? 

Pha. To your bed ; if you mistrust my faith, 145 
you doe mee the unnoblest wrong. 

Meg. I dare not, prince, I dare not. 

Pha. Make your owne conditions, my purse 

128 any. Qi, my. 129 Tim the. Qi, Timen a. 

130 leape. Qi, keepe. 

131 madam, only Q2 and Q3. D and B omit. 

136 And hoiv . . . ivit, sir. Qi, how . . . wit. 

138 to it. Qi, toot. 

141-142 looke . . . bolt. Qi omits. 

144 Whither? Qi, Q2, whether. 

146 unnoblest. Qi, most unnoblest. 

147 / dare not. Q^\ omits. 



202 pt)ila0ter [act n. 

shall seal um, and what you dare imagine you 

can want, Pie furnish you withall. Give two 150 

houres to your thoughts every morning about it. 

Come, I know you are bashful ; 

Speake in my eare, will you be mine ? Keepe 
this. 

And with it, me : soone I will visit you. 

[Gives money.'] 
Meg, My Lord, my chamber's most unsafe, 
but when tis night 155 

rie finde some means to slippe into your lodg- 
ing : 

Till when — 

Pha, Till when, this, and my heart goe 
with thee ! Exeunt [several zvays.] 

Enter Galatea from behind the hangings. 

Gal. Oh thou pernitious petticote prince, are 
these your vertues ? Well, if I doe not lay a 
traine to blow your sport up, I am no woman: 160 
and, Lady Towsabell, I'le fit you for't. 

Exit Gal^atea"]. 

150-151 tivo koures. Ql, worship, l^xyouare. Qi,y'are. 
153-157 Speake . . . thee. D's division ; prose in Qq and F. 

154 / ivill. Qi, I shall. 

Gives money ^ editor. W, D, B, Gives a ring. 

155 unsafe. Qi, uncertaine, 

157 se-veral ivays^ Q3-F. Qi, Exit ambo. 

hangings. Ql, orras. 

161 Toivsabell. Qi, Dowsabell. for't. Qi,forit. 



Scene III] ^l^ilafi^ter 203 

[Scene III. 

Arethusd's Apartment in the PalaceJ] 
Enter Arethusa and a Lady. 
Arethusa. Where's the boy ? 
Lady. Within, madam. 

Are. Gave you him gold to buy him cloathes ? 
La. I did. 

Are. And has he don't ? 5 

La, Yes, madam. 

Are, Tis a pretty sad-talking boy, is it not ? 
Asked you his name ? 
La. No, madam. 

Enter Galatea. 
Are. O you are welcome, what good newes ? 10 
Gal. As good as any one can tell your grace. 
That sayes she has done that you would have 
wish'd. 
Are. Hast thou discovered ? 
Gal. I have strainM a point of modesty for 

you. 
Are. I preethee how ? 15 

Enter . . . Lady. Qi, Enter Princesse and her Gentle- 
woman. Qi abbreviates '< Prin" and *'Wo" throughout the 
scene. 

2 madam. Qi omits. 7 " ^''- Q'j * ^t. 

I a has. Q6, F, hath. 

13-15 Hast . . . hoiv. D as two lines, ending first with point. 



204 pt)ila0trr [act n. 

Gal. In listning after bawdery. I see, let a 
lady live never so modestly, shee shall bee sure 
to finde a lawfull time to barken after bawdery; 
your prince, brave Pharamond, was so hot on't. 

j4re. With whom ? 20 

Gal. Why, with the lady I suspected : I can 
tell the time and place. 

Jre. O when, and where ? 

Gal. To-night, his lodging. 

Are. Runne thy selfe into the presence ; min- 
gle there againe 25 
With other ladies ; leave the rest to me. 

\^Exit Galatea.'] 
If Desteny (to whom we dare not say, 
" Why didst thou this ") have not decreed it so 
In lasting leaves (whose smallest carracters 
Was never alterd yet), this match shall breake. — 30 
Where's the boy ? 

La. Here, madam. 

Enter Be liar to. 

Are. Sir, you are sad to change your service, 
ist not so ? 

16-19 In . . . ont. D as four lines, ending lady, finde, 
baiudery, ont. 

17 shee. Qi, they. 21 suspected. Q4-F, suspect. 

25 presence. Qi, presents. 

28 Why didst thou this, Th, W, B. Qq, F, D, Why thou 
didst this. 

30 Was. F, D, B, Were. altered. Q2 misprints, atltered. 

33 you are. Qi, your. 



Scene III.] ^IjilaSfter 205 

Bellario. Madam, I have not chang'd ; I wayte 
on you, 
To doe him service. 

Are. Thou disclaimst in me ; 35 

Tell me thy name. 
Bell. Bellario. 

Are. Thou canst sing and play ? 
Bell. If griefe will give me leave, madam, I can. 
Are. Alas, what kinde of griefe can thy yeares 
know ? 40 

Hadst thou a curst master when thou wentst to 

schoole ? 
Thou art not capable of other griefe ; 
Thy browes and cheekes are smooth as waters be 
When no breath troubles them : believe me, boy, 
Care seekes out wrinckled browes and hollow 

eyes, 45 

And builds himselfe caves to abide in them. 
Come, sir, tell me truely, doth your lord love 
me? 
Bell. Love, madam ! I know not what it is. 
Are. Canst thou know griefe, and never yet 
knewest love ? 

35 Thou disclaimst in me. Qi, Then trust in me. 
41 curst master. Qi, crosse schoole-maister. 

43 ivaters. Ql, water. 

44 troubles. Q5, Q6, trouble, 45 out. Ql omits. 
46 himselfe. gi, itselfe. 47 doth. Q4-F, does. 
48 madam ! I knoiv not. Qi> I know not Madame. 



2o6 IBl^ilasfter [act h. 

Thou art deceived, boy ; does he speake of me 50 
As if he wish'd me well ? 

Bell. If it be love, 

To forget all respect to his owne friends, 
With thinking of your face ; if it be love. 
To sit crosse arm'd and thinke away the day. 
Mingled with starts, crying your name as loud 55 
And hastily, as men i'the streetes doe fire ; 
If it be love, to weepe himselfe away. 
When he but heares of any lady dead 
Or kil'd, because it might have beene your 

chance ; 
If, when he goes to rest (which will not be), 60 
Twixt every prayer he saies, to name you once, 
As others drop a bead, be to be in love ; 
Then, madam, I dare sweare he loves you. 

Jre. O, y'are a cunning boy, and taught to 

lie 65 

For your lords credit ; but thou knowest, a lie 
That beares this sound is welcomer to me 
Then any truth that saies he loves me not. 



50 deceived. Qi, deceiv'd. 52 to his. Q4-F, of his. 

53 fVith. Q4-F, In. 54 thinke. Q4-F, sigh. 

55 Mingled ivith starts. Qiy with mingling starts and. 

56 And hastily. Qi omits. Pthe. (^l, in. 
58 lady. Qi, woman. 

62 a bead. Qi, beades. Q2 misprints, beard. 

63 you. Qi, ye. 64-65 to lie For your. Qi, to your. 
65 knowest. Qi, know'st. 



Scene IV] J^tjltoter 207 

Leade the way, boy. — \_To Lady.'] Doe you 

attend me too. — 
Tis thy lords businesse hastes me thus. Away ! 

Exeunt. 

[Scene IV. 

Before Pharamond^s Lodging in the Court of the 
Palace.] 

Enter Dion, Cleremonty Thrasiliny Megra, Galatea. 
Dion. Come, ladyes, shall we talke a round ? 
As men 
Doe walke a mile, women should talke an houre 
After supper ; tis their exercise. 
Galatea. Tis late. 
Megra. Tis all 
My eyes will doe to lead me to my bed. 

Gal. I feare they are so heavy, you'll scarce 
finde 
The way to your owne lodging with um to-night. 
Enter Pharamond. 
Thrasiline. The prince! 

69 thm. Anvay. (^i, thus away. 

Enter, etc. Qi, Enter the three Gentlewomen, Megra, Galla- 
tea, and another Lady. 

I Dion, gl, «Tra." talke. Q6, F, take. 

7 they are. Qi, theyre. you II. (^2., theile. 

8 oione. <23~^ omit. 

Enter Pharamond. Qi, Enter Pharamont, the Princesse boy, 
and a woman. Q^i gives ** Prin." for Are. throughout scene. 



2o8 |^l)ilasiter [act h. 

Pharamond. Not abed, ladyes ? y*are good sit- 

ters-up ; lo 

What thinke you of a pleasant dreame to last 
Till morning. 

Meg. I should chose, my lord, a pleasing wake 
before it. 

Enter Are thus a and Be liar to. 

Arethusa. Tis well, my lord : y'are courting 
of these ladyes. 
1st not late, gentlemen ? 15 

Cleremont. Yes, madam. 

Are. Waite you there. Exit Arethusa. 

Meg. \aside'\ . She's jealous, as I live. — Looke 
you, my lord, 
The princess has a Hilas, an Adonis. 

Pha. His forme is angell-like. 20 

Meg. Why, this is he must, when you are wed. 
Sit by your pillow, like young Apollo, with 
His hand and voyce binding your thoughts in 

sleep : 
The princesse does provide him for you, and 
for her selfe. 

II pleasant. Ql, pleasing. 13 should. Ql, shall. 

Enter ^ etc. Qi omits. 

\\ my lord. Qi omits. these. Q3-F omit. 

16 Cleremont. Ql, "Gall." \% you. Ql omits. 

19 has. Qi omits. Hilas. Qi, Hilus. 

21 this is he must. Qi, this is that ; D, B, this is he that. 



Scene IV.] ^Ijltoter 209 

Pha. I finde no musique in these boyes. 
Meg. Nor I. 25 

They can doe little, and that small they doe, 
They have not wit to hide. 

Dion. Serves he the princesse ? 

Thra. Yes. 

Dion. Tis a sweete boy ; how brave 

she keepes him ! 
Pha. Ladyes all, good rest ; I meane to kill 
a bucke 
To morrow morning, ere y'ave done your 

dreames. 30 

Meg. All happinesse attend your grace. 

\^Exit Phar amend.'] 
Gentlemen, good rest. — 
Come shall we to bed ? 

Gal. Yes, — all good night. 

Exit Gal[atea and] Meg\ra~\. 
Dion. May your dreames be true to you. — 
What shall we doe, gallants ? Tis late ; the King 
Is up still : see he comes, a guard along 35 

With him. 

Enter King, Arethusa and Guard. 
King. Looke your intelligence be true. 

27 hide. Qi, hide it. 30 y'^a've. Ql, you have ; Q6, y'are. 
32 Come. Qi omits. Exit., etc. Qi omits. 

Enter . . . Guard. Qi has after late (1. 34), Enter the King, 
the Princesse, and a guard. 36 your. Qi omits. 



210 IBJitoter [actii. 

Are. Upon my life it is : and I doe hope 
Your highnesse will not tie me to a man 
That in the heate of wooing throwes me off. 
And takes another. 

Dion. What should this meane ? 40 

King. If it be true, 
That lady had been better have embraced 
Cureless diseases ; get you to your rest ; 

Ex\eunt\ Are\thusa and~\Bell\_ario'\. 
You shall be righted. Gentlemen, draw neere, 
We shall imploy you. Is young Pharamond 45 
Come to his lodging ? 

Dion. I saw him enter there. 

King. Haste some of you, and cunningly dis- 
cover. 
If Megra be in her lodging. [Exit Dion.'] 

Cle. Sir, 
She parted hence but now with other ladyes. 50 

King. If she be there, we shall not need to 
make 
A vaine discovery of our suspition. 
\_Jside.^ You gods, I see that who unrighteously 
Holds wealth or state from others, shall be curst 
In that which meaner men are blest withall : 55 
Ages to come shall know no male of him 
Left to inherit, and his name shall be 

42 ha-ve. ^i omits. Exeunt, etc. Q^l omits. 

45 y"*- Q'>ye- •^*"'' Dion. Qi has '* Exit Leon" 

after 1. 50. 49 Cle. Qi,*'Leon." 



Scene IV.] p\)Mmt 211 

Blotted from earth ; if he have any child, 

It shall be crossely match*d ; the gods themselves 

Shall sow wilde strife betwixt her lord and her. 60 

Yet, if it be your wills, forgive the sinne 

I have committed; let it not fall 

Upon this understanding child of mine ! 

She has not broke your lawes. But how can I 

Looke to be heard of gods that must be just, 65 

Praying upon the ground I hold by wrong ? 

£;!ter Dion. 
Dion. Sir, I have asked, and her women 
sweare she is within ; but they, I thinke, are 
bawdes. I told um, I must speake with her ; 
they laught, and said their lady lay speechlesse. 70 
I said, my business was important ; they said, 
their lady was about it. I grew hot, and cryed, 
my businesse was a matter that concerned life 
and death ; they answered, so was sleeping, at 
which their lady was. I urg'd againe, shee had 75 
scarce time to bee so since last I saw her ; they 
smilde againe, and seem'd to instruct mee that 
sleeping was nothing but lying downe and wink- 
ing. Answers more direct I could not get : in 
short, sir, I thinke she is not there. 80 

58 earth. Qi, the earth. 63 understanding. Q I, undeserving. 
64 She. Qi, if she. can. Qi, could. 66 by. Ql, in. 

79 S^^- Qi> g^t ffo"^ them. 

80 I thinke. Qi omits. she is. Ql, shee's. 



212 J^liilasfter [actii. 

King, TIs then no time to dally. — You o'th 
guard, 

Waite at the backe dore of the princes lodging, 

And see that none passe thence upon your lives. 

Knocke, gentlemen ; knocke loud ; lowder yet : 

What, has their pleasure taken off their hear- 
ing ? — 85 

rie breake your meditations. — Knocke againe. 

— Not yet ? I doe not thinke he sleepes, having 
this 

Larum by him. — Once more, Pharamond! prince ! 

Pharamond above. 

Pha. What sawcy groome knocks at this 
dead of night ? 
Where be our waiters ? By my vexed soule, 90 
He meetes his death that meetes me, for this 
boldnesse. 
King. Prince, [prince,] you wrong your 
thoughts, we are your friends : 
Come downe. 

Pha. The King ! 

8i «o time. Q5a, not time. oUh. Qi, a'th. 

84 loivder yet. Ql omits. 

85 their . . . their. Qi, your . . . your. 

86 meditations. Qi, meditation. 
againe. Qi, again, and louder. 

87-88 this Larum, Q3-F. Qi,such larumes. Qz, his Larum. 
88 prince. Qi omits, and adds stage-direction, "They knock." 
92 Prince, prince, Qi, Q2-F, Prince. 



Scene IV.] Ptjltotet 21 3 

King. The same, sir ; come downe ; 

We have cause of present counsell with you. 

Pha. If your grace please to use me, I'le 

attend you 95 

To your chamber. Pha[ramond'\ below. 

King. No, tis too late, prince ; I'le make bold 

with yours. 

Pha. I have some private reasons to my selfe, 

Makes me unmannerly, and say you cannot. — 

\_They prease to come in.'\ 

Nay, prease not forward, gentlemen ; he must 

come 100 

Through my life that comes here. 

King. Sir, be resolv'd, I must and will come. 

— Enter ! 
Pha. I will not be dishonor'd : 
He that enters, enters upon his death. 
Sir, tis a signe you make no stranger of me, 105 
To bring these renegados to my chamber. 
At these unseasoned hours. 

King. Why doe you 

93 The same, sir; come doivne, Q2-F. Ql, D, The same, sir. 
Come down sir ; B, The same. Come down, sir. 

98 some. Qi, certaine. my selfe. Qi, my selfe sir. 

They prease to come in, Qi. 100 gentlemen. Qi omits. 

102 resol'v'' d, I must . . . Enter, Q2, (^3, D, B. Ql, re- 
solved, I must come, and will come enter. Q4-F misprint Enter at 
end of preceding line. 

103 dishonor d. Ql, dishonoured thus. 
106 renegados. Qi, runagates. 



214 pijilasfter [actil 

Chafe your selfe so ? you are not wrong'd, nor 

shall be ; 
Onely 'Fie search your lodging, for some cause 
To our selfe knowne. — Enter, I say. 

Pha. I say no. no 

Meg^ra]^ above. 

Meg. Let um enter, prince, let um enter; 
I am up and ready : I know there businesse ; 
Tis the poore breaking of a ladies honour, 
They hunt so hotly after ; let um enjoy it. — 
You have your businesse, gentlemen j I lay 

here. — 115 

O, my lord the King, this is not noble in you, 
To make publique the weakenesse of a woman. 

King. Come downe. 

Meg. I dare, my lord : your whootings and 
your clamors. 
Your private whispers and your broad fleerings, 120 
Can no more vex my soule then this base car- 
riage ; 
But I have vengance yet in store for some 
Shall, in the most contempt you can have of me, 
Be joy and nourishment. 

108 so. Qi omits. 109 rU. Qi omits. 

no knoivne. Qi omits. say no. Qi, so no. 

111-112 Let um . . . businesse. Verse-division of D. 
Qi ends first line with up^ omitting and ready, and printing the rest 
of the speech as prose. Qi-F end first line with prince. 

116 the. Qi, a. i if) whootings. Qi, whoting j D, hootings. 

I2Z yet. Qi, still. 



Scene IV.] ^\)ihSittt 215 

King. Will you come downe ? 

Meg. Yes, to laugh at your worst ; but I 

shall wring you, 125 

If my skill faile me not. [Exit Megra above.'] 

King. Sir, I must dearely chide you for this 
loosenesse ; 
You have wrong'd a worthy lady j but, no 

more. — 
Conduct him to my lodging, and to bed. 

\_Exeunt Pharamond and Attendants.'] 
Cle. Get him another wench, and you bring 

him to bed in deed. 130 

Dion. Tis strange a man cannot ride a stage 
Or two, to breathe himselfe, without a warrant 
If this geere hold, that lodgings be search'd thus. 
Pray God we may lie with our owne wives in 

safety, 
That they be not by some tricke of state mistaken ! 135 
Enter ^Attendants] with Megra \below] . 
King. Now lady of honour, where's your 
honour now ? 

125 luring. Q5a, Q6, F, wrong. 

127 dearely chide you. gi, chide you dearly. 

128 ivorthy. Qi omits. 129 my. gi, his. 
Exeunt . . . Attendants^ D. 

131— 135 Tis . . . mistaken. Verse-division as in Q2—T. Ql 
ends lines tivo, hold, lie, be not, mistaken. 

131 stage, Qi. Q2-F, Stagg or Stagge. 

1 34 God. ^4-F, heaven. Enter . . . below. Qi omits, 

but has in margin, ** they come downe to the King." 



2l6 ^\)i\SLmt [Act II. 

No man can fit your pallat but the prince. 
Thou most ill shrowded rottennesse, thou piece 
Made by a painter and a pothicary, 
Thou troubled sea of lust, thou wildernesse 140 
Inhabited by wild thoughts, thou swolne clowd 
Of infection, thou ripe mine of all diseases : 
Thou all-sinne, all-hell, and last, all-divells, tell 

me. 
Had you none to pull on with your courtesies, 
But he that must be mine, and wrong my 

daughter ? 145 

By all the gods, all these, and all the pages, 
And all the court shall hoote thee through the 

court, 
Fling rotten oranges, make riba'd rimes. 
And seare thy name with candles upon walls ! 
Doe ye laugh, lady Venus ? 150 

Meg. Faith, sir, you must pardon me ; 
I cannot chuse but laugh to see you merry. 
If you doe this, O King, nay, if you dare doe it, 
By all those gods you swore by, and as many 
More of my owne, I will have fellowes, and 

such 155 

Fellowes in it as shall make noble mirth : 

139 a pothicary. Qi, Apothecaries. 

143 all-hell. Qi, and hell. Hyphens in this line inserted by D. 

146 and. Qi omits. 148 riba'd. Qi, reball ; Q3-F, ribald. 

1^0 ye. Qi,Q4'39-F> yo"- 

154 those. Q6, F, these. as. Qi, that. 



Scene IV.] ^\)iUmt 21 7 

The princesse, your deare daughter, shall stand 

by me 
On walls, and sung in ballads, any thing. 
Urge me no more ; I know her, and her haunts, 
Her layes, leaps, and outlayes, and will discover 

all ; 160 

Nay, will dishonor her. I know the boy 
She keepes, a handsome boy, about eighteene ; 
Know what she does with him, where, and when. 
Come sir, you put me to a womans madnesse, 
The glory of a fury j and if I doe not 165 

Doe it to the height — 

King. What boy is this she raves at ? 

Meg. Alas, good-minded prince, you know 

not these things ; 
I am loath to reveale um. Keepe this fault 
As you would keepe your health from the hot 

aire 
Of the corrupted people; or, by heaven, ,70 

I will not fall alone. What I have knowne. 
Shall be as publique as a print ; all tongues 
Shall speake it as they doe the language they 
Are borne in, as free and commonly ; I'le set it 

158 On. Ql, Upon. any. Ql, or any. 

160 layes . . . outlayes. Ql, fayre leaps And out-lying. 

161 Nay. Qi, and. 

163 Knoiv. Qi, Knowes. and. Qi omits. 

166 this. Qi, that. 171 fall. Qi, sinke. 

172 a. Qi, in. 173-174 they Are. Qi, they're. 



2i8 piiila0ter [actii. 

Like a prodigious starre for all to gaze at, 175 

And so high and glowing that other kingdomes 

far and forraigne 
Shall reade it there, nay, travaile with it, till they 

finde 
No tongue to make it more, nor no more people ; 
And then behold the fall of your faire princesse. 
King. Has she a boy ? 180 

Cle. So please your grace, I have seene a boy 
wayte 
On her, a faire boy. 

King, Go, get you to your quarter : 

For this time Pie studdy to forget you. 

Meg. Do you studdy to forget me, and Fie 
studdy 
To forget you. 185 

Ex\j£unf\ K[i?ig'\y Meg[ra], [and"^ Guard. 
Cle. Why here's a male spirit fit for Hercu- 
les, if ever there bee nine worthies of women, this 
wench shall ride astride, and be their captaine. 
Dion. Sure, she has a garrison of divells in her 
tongue, shee uttered such balls of wild-fire. She 190 

176 And . . . forraigne. Th omits And and other. 

177 nay. Qi omits. 

181 Cle. Qi, "Leon." D, B, end line with on her. 

182 quarter. Qi, quarters. 183 Fie. W, D, B, I will. 
184-185 Do . . . forget you. Qi, Do so, and i'le forget 

your — . 186 PVhy. Qi omits. ft. Q3-F omit. 

187 "worthies, (^i, worthy. ivomen. (^3, woman. 

188 astride. Qi, aside. 

189 has. F, hath. 190 uttered. F, uttereth. 



Scene IV.] ^^USimt 219 

has so netled the King, that all the doctors in the 
countrey will scarce cure him. That boy was a 
strange-found-out antidote to cure her infection ; 
that boy, that princesse' boy ; that brave, chaste, 
vertuous ladies boy; and a faire boy, a well 195 
spoken boy ! All these considered, can make 
nothing else — but there I leave you, gentlemen. 
Thra. Nay, weele goe wander with you. 

Exeunf. 

191 net/ed, Qi, Q^~F. Qz, Q3, metled. 

192 scarce. Qi, not. 

193 infection, Q4-F. Q1-Q3, infections. 

194 brave, chaste, (^i, chast, brave. 
197 you. Qi, yee. 



Actus 3. Sccena I. 

[The Court of the Palace.'] 

E?iter Cle \remont'\ , Di \on and] Thra [si/me] . 

Cleremont. Nay, doubtlesse tis true. 
Dion. I, and tis the gods 
That raisde this punishment to scourge the King 
With his own issue. Is it not a shame 
For us that should write noble in the land, 5 

For us that should be freemen, to behold 
A man that is the bravery of his age, 
Philaster, prest downe from his royall right 
By this regardlesse king ? and only looke. 
And see the scepter ready to be cast 10 

Into the hands of that lascivious lady 
That lives in lust with a smooth boy, now to be 
Married to yon strange prince ; who, but that 

people 
Please to let him be a prince, is borne a slave 
In that which should be his most noble part, 15 
His minde. 

Thrasiline. That man that would not stirre 

with you 

Enter ^ etc. Q I, Enter three Gentlemen. I Nay. Qi, And, 
5 For us. (^i, for all U8. ihould. Q I omits. 
iz-l^ That . . . sla've. W, D, B, end lines with ZKflrr/W,/)/«fl5f. 
14 prince. Ql, thing. 



Scene I] ^\)ilSi&ttX 221 

To aide Philaster, let the gods forget 

That such a creature walkes upon the earth ! 

C/e. Philaster is too backward in't himselfe ; 
The gentry doe awaite it, and the people, 20 

Against their nature, are all bent for him. 
And like a field of standing corne, that's moved 
With a stifFe gale, their heads bow all one way. 

Dion. The onely cause that drawes Philaster 
backe 
From this attempt, is the faire princesse' love, 25 
Which he admires, and we can now confute. 

Thra. Perhaps he'le not beleeve it. 

Dion. Why, gentlemen, tis without question 
so. 

Cle. I, tis past speech, she lives dishonestly. 
But how shall we, if he be curious, worke 3° 

Upon his faith ? 

Thra. We all are satisfied within our selves. 

Dion. Since it is true, and tends to his owne 
good, 
rie make this new report to be my knowledge ; 
rie say I know it ; nay, I'le sweare I saw it. 35 

19 Philaster . . . himselfe. Qi omits. 21 bent. Ql omits. 
22 of. Ql, if. that's. Qi omits. 24 drawes. Qi, draweth. 
26 confute. Ql, comfort. 27 it. Ql omits. 

27-31 Perhaps . . . faith. D ends lines with gentlemen^ 
speech, shall ive, faith. 

28 Dion. Qi,"Cle." 29 Cle. Qi, "Leon." 

31 Upon his faith. Ql, on his beleefe. 

33 tends. Qi, Lords. 35 nay. Qi omits. 



222 l^titlasfter [actih. 

Cle. It will be best. 

Thra. Twill move him 

Enter Philas\jer]. 

Dion. Here he comes. 

Good morrow to your honor : we have spent 
Some time in seeking you. 

Philaster. My worthy friends, 

You that can keepe your memories to know 
Your friend in miseries, and cannot frowne 40 

On men disgraced for vertue, a good day 
Attend you all. What service may I do 
Worthy your acceptation ? 

Dion. My good lord. 

We come to urge that vertue, which we know 
Lives in your breast, forth. Rise, and make a 

head ; 45 

The nobles and the people are all dull'd 
With this usurping king; and not a man 
That ever heard the word, or knew such a thing 
As vertue, but will second your attempts. 

36-38 It ivill . . . friends. B's verse-division. Qq, F, end 
lines with best, him, honor, you, friends. 

Enter Philaster. Q1-Q4 print after be best. 

36 Dion. Ql, *'Cle." 

40-41 froivne . . . disgraced. Ql, frame . . . disgrace. 

43 good. Qi omits. 

45 breast, forth. Rise. Qq, F, breast, forth, rise, 

46 du/rd. Qi, dull. 

48 or knew, Q3-F. Qi, knowes ; Q2, or knowne ; B (qy.), 
or knows. 



Scene I] ^^ihHttt 223 

Phi. How honourable is this love in you 50 

To me that have deserv'd none ! Know, my 

friends, 
(You that were borne to shame your poore Phi- 

laster. 
With too much courtesie) I could afFoord 
To melt my selfe in thankes ; but my designes 
Are not yet ripe. Suffice it, that ere long 55 

I shall imploy your loves : but yet the time 
Is short of what I would. 

Dion. The time is fuller, sir, then you expect ; 
That which hereafter will not, perhaps, be 

reach'd 
By violence, may now be caught. As for the 

King, 60 

You know the people have long hated him ; 
But now the princesse, whom they lov'd — 

Phi. Why, what of her ? 

Dion. Is loath'd as much as he. 

Phi. By what strange meanes ? 

Dion. She's knowne a whore. 

Phi. Thou liest ! 

Dion. My lord — 65 

51 deserved none. Qi, deserved more. 

54 in thankes^ Q4-F' Q^j Q^> ^^ thankes; Q3, in thinkes. 

55 Suffice it. Qi, sufficient. 58 sir. Qi omits. 
59 ivill not. Qi omits. 

61 ha-ve long. Qi, long have. 63 Dion. Qi, **Tra." 

64 Phi. Thou. Q2 misprints Di. Thou. 



224 pt)ila0ter [act m. 

Phi. Thou liest, Offers to drawy and is held. 
And thou shalt feele it ! I had thought thy minde 
Had beene of honour. Thus to rob a lady 
Of her good name, is an infectious sinne, 
Not to be pardon'd. Be it false as hell, 70 

Twill never be redeem'd, if it be sowne 
Amongst the people, fruitfull to increase 
All evill they shall heare. Let me alone. 
That I may cut off falshood whilst it springs ! 
Set hills on hills betwixt me and the man 75 

That utters this, and I will scale them all, 
And from the utmost top fall on his necke 
Like thunder from a clowd. 

Dion. This is most strange ; 

Sure he does love her. 

Phi. I doe love faire truth : 

She is my mistrisse, and who injures her 80 

Drawes vengeance from me. Sirs, let goe my 
armes. 

Thra. Nay, good my lord, be patient. 

Cle. Sir, remember this is your honor'd friend. 
That comes to doe his service, and will shew you 
Why he utter'd this. 

Phi. I aske you pardon, sir, 85 

68 Thus. Qi, then. -ji fruitfull. Qi, faithfull. 

74 0^. . . springs. Ql, out falsehood where it growes. 

75 ^^^- Qi) th^t. 

80 injures. Qi, injuries. 85 you. Ql, your. 



Scene I] pj^llatftet 225 

My zeale to truth made me unmannerly : 
Should I have heard dishonour spoke of you, 
Behind your backe untruely, I had beene 
As much distemperd and enrag'd as now. 

Dion. But this, my lord, is truth. oq 

Phi. O, say not so, good sir, forbeare to say so j 
Tis then truth that woman-kind is false ; 
Urge it no more, it is impossible. 
Why should you thinke the princesse light ? 

Dion. Why, she was taken at it. ^^ 

Phi. Tis false ! by heaven, tis false ! it can- 
not be ! 
Can it ? Speake, gentlemen ; for Gods love, 

speake ! 
1st possible ? can women all be damn'd ? 
Dion. Why no, my lord. 
Phi. Why then, it cannot be. 

Dion. And she was taken with her boy. 
Phi. What boy ? loo 

Dion. A page, a boy that serves her. 

86 made. Qi, makes. 88 backe. Qi, backs. 

90-95 But this . . . at it. Verse-division of Q2-F. W, D, 
end lines with not so, truth, no more, thinke, at it. 

92 Tis , . . false. Qi, tis then truth that women all are 
false. Q4'34, thee truth, Q4'39-F, all womenkind. 

93 it is. Qi, tis. 96 by. Q4-F, O. 
97-98 for . . . possible. Qi omits. 

97 Gods lo've. Q4— F, D, love of truth. 

99 Dion. Why . . , lord. Qi omits this speech and gives the 
next to **Tra." 100 Dion. Qi,"Cle." 



226 Pl^itoter [Act III. 

Phi, Oh, good gods ! 

A little boy ? 

Dion. I, know you him, my lord ? 

Phi. Hell and sinne know him! — Sir, you are 
deceiv'd : 
rie reason it a little coldly with you ; 
If she were lustfull, would she take a boy, 105 

That knowes not yet desire ? she would have 

one 
Should meete her thoughts, and know the sinne 

he acts. 
Which is the great delight of wickednesse. 
You are abusd, and so is she, and I, 
Dion. How you, my lord ? 

Phi. Why, all the world's abusdeno 

In an unjust report. 

Dion. Oh, noble sir, your vertues 

Cannot looke into the subtle thoughts of woman. 
In short, my lord, I tooke them ; I my selfe. 
Phi. Now all the divells thou didst ! Flie from 
my rage ! 
Would thou hadst tane divells ingendring plagues, 115 
When thou didst take them ! Hide thee from 
mine eyes ; 

104 coldly, gi, milder. io6 desire. Ql, desires. 

107 knoiv. Q4-F, knows. he. Qi, she. 
110 Dion. Qi, *'Cle." II2 luotnan. Qi, women. 

116 mine. Q3-F, my. 



Scene I] ^\)iUmt 227 

Would thou hadst taken thunder on thy breast, 
When thou didst take them ; or been strucken 

dumbe 
For ever ; that this foule deed might have slept 
In silence ! 

Thra. Have you knowne him so ill tem- 

perd ? 120 

Cle. Never before. 

Phi. The winds that are let loose, 

From the four several corners of the earth, 
And spread themselves all over sea and land, 
Kisse not a chaste one. What friend beares a 

sword 
To runne me through ? 125 

Dion. Why, my lord, are you so movM at 

this ? 
Phi. When any fall from vertue, I am dis- 
tracted ; 
I have an interest in't. 

ny taken. Q2, tane. thunder on. Qi, daggers in. 

118 didst. Q3, did. strucken. Ql, stuacke. 

119 fouie deed. Qi, fault. 

1 20-1 21 Thra. . . . Cle. Qi transposes the speakers. 

122 several. Qi omits. 

123 spread themsel'ves. Ql, spreads them selfe. 

124 Kisse not a chaste one. Qi, Meetes not a fayre on. 
125-8 To runne . . int. D ends lines with are you, -vertue, int. 

125 through. Qi, thorow ; D, B, thorough. 

126 Dion. Qi, **Tra." 

izj fall. Q4'39-F, falls. distracted. Q4-F, D, distract. 
128 an. Qi omits. 



228 |^l)ila0ter [act m. 

Dion. But, good my lord, recall your selfe, 
and thinke 
What's best to be done. 

Phi. I thank youe ; I will doe it. 130 

Please you to leave me, I'le consider of it : 
Tomorrow I will finde your lodging forth, 
And give you answer. 

Dion. All the gods direct you 

The readiest way ! 

Thra. He was extreame impatient. 

Cle. It was his vertue and his noble minde. 135 
Exit Di \_on'\ Cle \remont and'\ Thra [si/ine] . 

Phi. I had forgot to aske him where he took 
them ; 
rie follow him. O that I had a sea 
Within my breast, to quench the fire I feele ! 
More circumstances will but fan this fire : 
It more afflicts me now, to know by whom 140 
This deed is done, then simply that tis done ; 

129-130 But . . . done. Verse-division of W, D, B. Qq, F, 
end 1. 129 vfkh your selfe. 

130 doe it. Qi, do't. 

132 I ivi/l. Qijlle, lodging. Qi, lodgings, forth. Q I omits. 

^33-''34 Dion. All . . . ivay. Qi has " Omnes " for Dion^ 
and adds "Exit Three Gent." Q4'39-F print: 
The readiest way. 
Di. All the gods direct you. 

134-135 Thra. . . . minde. Qi omits. 

136 him. Qi, um. them. Qi, her. 

139 'will but fan. Ql, would but flame. 

141 This. Qi, the. tis. Qi, it is. 



Scene I] ^\)ihmt 229 

And he that tells me this, is honourable, 
As farre from lies as she is farre from truth. 
O that, like beasts, we could not grieve our selves 
With that we see not ! Bulls and rams will fight 145 
To keepe their females, standing in their sight ; 
But take um from them, and you take at once 
Their spleenes away ; and they will fall againe 
Unto their pastures, growing fresh and fat. 
And taste the waters of the springs as sweete 150 
As twas before ; finding no start in sleepe. 
But miserable man — 

Enter Bellario 

See, see, you gods ! 
He walkes still ; and the face you let him weare 
When he was innocent is still the same. 
Not blasted. Is this justice ? Doe you meane 155 
To entrap mortality, that you allow 
Treason so smooth a brow ? I cannot now 
Thinke he is guilty. 

Bellario. Health to you, my lord ! 

The princesse doth commend her love, her life. 
And this, unto you. ^He gives him a letter. '\ 

Phi. Oh, Bellario, 160 

147 um. Qi, them. 150 springs. Q5a, spring. 

Enter Bellario. Q2-F print after ^0^^. Qi, ** Enter boy" 
after man. 

155 blasted. Ql, blush. 

He gi-ves . . . letter. Only Qi. 



230 pi^ila0ter [act m. 

Now I perceive she loves me ! she does shew it 
In loving thee, my boy; she has made thee brave. 

Bell. My lord, she has attir'd me past my wish, 
Past my desert ; more fit for her attendant, 
Though far unfit for me who doe attend. 165 

Phi, Thou art growne courtly, boy. — O, let 
all women 
That love blacke deeds learne to dissemble here, 
Here, by this paper ! She does write to me 
As if her heart were mines of adamant 
To all the world besides ; but unto me, 170 

A maiden snow that melted with my lookes. 
Tell me, my boy, how doth the princesse use 

thee ? 
For I shall guesse her love to me by that. 

Bell. Scarce like her servant, but as if I were 
Something allyed to her, or had preserved 175 

Her life three times by my fidelity ; 
As mothers fond doe use there onely sonnes, 
As Pde use one that's left unto my trust. 
For whom my life should pay if he met harme. 
So she does use me. 

Phi. Why, this is wondrous well : i8o 

But what kinde language does she feede thee with? 

163 my. Qi omits. 165 Though. Qi, But. who. Qi, that. 

166 boy. Q I, my boy. 168 by. Ql, with. 

169 mines. Qi, twines, 1 72 doth. Qi, dos. 

173 For . . . that. Qi omits. 179 met. Qi, meete. 

180 this is. Qi, tis. 



Scene I.] ^^ISi&ttt 23 1 

Be/L Why, she does tell me, she will trust 
my youth 
With all her loving secrets, and does call me 
Her pretty servant ; bids me weepe no more 
For leaving you ; sheele see my services 185 

Regarded ; and such words of that soft strain, 
That I am neerer weeping when she ends 
Than ere she spake. 

Phi. This is much better still. 

BelL Are you not ill, my lord ? 

Phi. Ill ? No, Bellario. 

Bell. Me thinkes your words 190 

Fall not from ofF your tongue so evenly. 
Nor is there in your lookes that quietnesse 
That I was wont to see. 

Phi. Thou art deceivd, boy : 

And she strokes thy head ? 

Bell. Yes.' 

Phi. And she does clap thy cheekes ? 

Bell. She does, my lord. 195 

Phi. And she does kisse thee, boy ? ha ? 

Be//. How, my lord ? 

183 lo'ving secrets. Qi, maiden store. 

185 services. Qi, service. 186 Regarded. Qi, rewarded. 

188 spake. Qi, speakes. 

189 not ill. Qi, not well. Q6, F, omit not. 

191 Fall . . . evenly. Qi, fall out from your tongue, so unevenly. 

192 quietnesse. Qi, quicknesse. 

193 deceived J Qi. Q2-F, deceiv'd. 



232 |Bt)ila0ter act m. 

Phi. She kisses thee ? 

Bell. Never, my lord, by heaven ! 

Phi. That's strange : I know she does. 

Bell. No, by my life ! 

Phi. Why then she does not love me. Come, 
she does : 
I bad her doe it. I charg'd her by all charmes 200 
Of love betweene us, by the hope of peace 
We should enjoy, to yeeld thee all delights 
Naked as to her bed : I tooke her oath 
Thou shouldst enjoy her. Tell me, gentle boy, 
Is she not parrallesse ? Is not her breath 205 

Sweete as Arabian winds when fruits are ripe? 
Are not her breasts two liquid ivory balls ? 
Is she not all a lasting mine of joy ? 

Bell. I, now I see why my disturbed thoughts 
Were so perplext. When first I went to her, aio 
My heart held augury. You are abusde. 
Some villaine has abusde you : I doe see 
Whereto you tend. Fall rocks upon his head 
That put this to you ! tis some subtile traine 
To bring that noble frame of yours to nought. 215 

197 Never . . . heaven. Q4-F, D, Not so, my lord. 

198 That's strange. Q4-F, D, Come, come, 
200 bad. Qi, bid. doe it. Ql, do't. 

202 delights. Qi, delight. 203 bed. Ql, Lord. 

205 parrallesse. Ql, paradise; Q6, F, paralleless. 

209 /. Qi, Yes. disturbed. Qi, discurled. 

211 augury. Qi, auguries. 

213 Whereto. Qi, where. i\^ frame. Qi, friend. 



Scene I] ^\)iUmt 233 

Phi, Thou thinkst I will be angry with thee. 
Come, 
Thou shalt know all my drift ; I hate her more 
Than I love happinesse, and placed thee there 
To prye with narrow eyes into her deeds. 
Hast thou discovered ? Is she falne to lust, 220 
As I would wish her ? Speake some comfort to 
me. 

Bell. My lord, you did mistake the boy you 
sent : 
Had she the lust of sparrowes, or of goates ; 
Had she a sinne that way, hid from the world. 
Beyond the name of lust, I would not aide 225 

Her base desires : but what I came to know 
As servant to her, I would not reveale. 
To make my life last ages. 

Phi. Oh, my heart ! 

This is a salve worse then the maine disease. — 
Tell me thy thoughts ; for I will know the least 230 
That dwells within thee, or will rip thy heart 
To know it ; I will see thy thoughts as plaine 
As I doe now thy face. 

Be/i. Why, so you doe. 

She is (for ought I know), by all the gods. 
As chaste as ice ; but were she foule as hell, 235 

219 narroiv. Qi, sparrowes. 223 or. Qi, and, 

224 ivay^ hid. Qi, weighed. 226 came. Ql, come. 

229 disease. Qi, deceit. 233 noiu. F, know. 



234 l^^itoter [Act III. 

And I did know it thus, the breath of kings, 
The points of swords, tortures, nor buls of 

brasse. 
Should draw it from me. 

Phi. Then it is no time 

To dally with thee ; I will take thy life, 
For I doe hate thee : I could curse thee now. 240 

Bell. If you doe hate, you could not curse me 
worse ; 
The gods have not a punishment in store 
Greater for me then is your hate. 

Phi. Fie, fie. 

So young and so dissembling ! tell me when 
And where thou didst enjoy her, or let plagues 24S 
Fall upon me, if I destroy thee not ! 

\_He drawes his sword.'^ 

Bell. By heaven, I never did : and when I lie 
To save my life, may I live long and loath'd ! 
Hew me asunder, and whilst I can thinke 

238-240 Should . . . noiv. Verse-division of Th, W, D, B, 
Ql ends lines with from me, life, now ; Q2-Q4, from me, ivitA 
thee, hate thee, noiv ; Q5, Q6, lu'ith thee, noiv ; Y , from me, ivith 
thee, noiv. 

238 draiv. Ql, wrack. it is, Ql. Q2-F, tis. 

241 hate. Ql, hate me. 

243 Greater. Qi omits. for. Qi, to. 

243-246 Fie . . . thee not. Verse-division of Th, W, D, B. 
Ql ends lines with ivhere, upon me, not ; Q2-F, dissembling, her, 
not. 

246 upon, Qi, D. Q2-F, on. He . . . sword, only Ql. 

247 By heaven. Q4-F, Heaven knows. 



Scene I] ^^hSittX 235 

rie love those pieces you have cut away 250 

Better than those that grow, and kisse those 

limbes 
Because you made um so. 

Phi. Fearst thou not death ? 

Can boyes contemne that ? 

Bel/. Oh, what boy is he 

Can be content to live to be a man. 
That sees the best of men thus passionate, 255 
Thus without reason ? 

Phi. Oh, but thou doest not know 

What tis to dye. 

Bel/. Yes, I doe know, my lord : 

Tis lesse then to be borne ; a lasting sleepe, 
A quiet resting from all jealousie, 
A thing we all persue : I know, besides, 260 

It is but giving over of a game 
That must be lost. 

Phi. But there are paines, false boy. 

For perjur'd soules; thinke but on those, and 

then 
Thy heart will melt, and thou wilt utter all. 

251 those limbs. Q6, F, these limbs. 

252 Fearst. Q4'39-F, Fearest. 254 Can. Qi, could. 
256 but. Qi omits. Qq, F, end line with dye. doest, only 

Q2. Qq, F, dost. 

261 ever oj" a game. Qi, ore againe. 

263 those. Q4-F, D, these. 

264 and thou. Ql, and then thou. 



236 pi)ila0ter [act m. 

Bell. May they fall all upon me whilst I live, 265 
If I be perjur'd, or have ever thought 
Of that you charge me with ! If I be false, 
Send me to suffer in those punishments 
You speak of: kill me! 

\_Phi.'] Oh, what should I doe ? 

Why, who can but beleeve him ? He does sweare 270 
So earnestly, that if it were not true. 
The gods would not endure him. Rise, Bellario : 
Thy protestations are so deepe, and thou 
Doest looke so truely when thou utterst them, 
That, though I know um false as were my hopes, 275 
I cannot urge thee further. But thou wert 
Too blame to injure me, for I must love 
Thy honest lookes, and take no revenge upon 
Thy tender youth. A love from me to thee 
Is firme, what e're thou doest : it troubles me 280 
That I have call'd the blood out of thy cheekes. 
That did so well become thee. But, good boy. 
Let me not see thee more ; something is done 
That will distract me, that will make me mad. 
If I behold thee. If thou tenderst me, 285 

Let me not see thee. 

269 Phi. Q2 omits by mistake. 

274 Doest. Qi, Q5, Q6, F, dost. utterst, Q2, Q6, uttrest. 
Other Qq, F, utterest. 

275 kftoiv. F, known. 279 tender youth. Qi, honest lookes. 

280 doest, only Q2. Other gq, F, dost. 

281 the blood. Qi, thy blood, 282 thee. B(qy.), them. 
285 tenderst. Qi, tenderest. 



Scene II.] P^jila^tet 237 

Bell. I will flie as farre 

As there is morning, ere I give distaste 
To that most honor'd mind. But through these 

teares 
Shed at my hopelesse parting, I can see 
A world of treason practisde upon you, 290 

And her, and me. Farewel for ever more ! 
If you shall heare that sorrow strucke me dead, 
And after finde me loyall, let there be 
A teare shed from you in my memory, 
And I shall rest at peace. Exit Be//[ano']. 

Phi. Blessing be with thee, 295 

What ever thou deservest ! — Oh, where shall I 
Goe bathe this body ? Nature too unkinde. 
That made no medicine for a troubled minde ! 

Ex [it] Phi [/aster']. 

[Scene II. 

Arethusa* s Apartment ifi the Palace.] 

Enter Are thus a. 

Arethusa. I marvaile my boy comes not backe 
againe ; 

288 mind, Qi, frame. 

289 hopelesse. Qi, haplesse. 292 sorroiu. Ql, sorrowes. 

296 e'ver. Qi, ere. desewest^ Q'~Q3" Q5^» deserv'd. 
G4, Q5b, Q6, F, deserv'st. 

297 bathe. Q4-F, bath. this. Q6, F, thy. 

298 made. Qi, mad'st. for. Qi, to. 

Enter Arethusa. Ql, Princesse, and " Prin " for Are. through- 
out the scene. i againe. Qi omits. 



238 ^^iinmt [Act III. 

But that I know my love will question him 
Over and over, how I slept, wak'd, talk'd ; 
How I remembred him when his deare name 
Was last spoke, and how, when I sigh'd, wept, 

sung, 5 

And ten thousand such; I should be angry at 
his stay. 

EnUr King. 
King, What, at your meditations ? Who at- 
tends you ? 
Are. None but my single selfe ; I neede no 
guard; 
I doe no wrong, nor feare none. 

King. Tell me, have you not a boy ? 
Are. Yes sir. 10 

King. What kinde of boy ? 
Are. A page, a wayting boy. 

King. A handsome boy ? 
Are. I thinke he be not ugly : 

Well quallified, and dutifull, I know him ; 
I tooke him not for beauty. 

King. He speakes, and sings and playes ? 

Are. Yes sir. 15 

3 ivak'd, talk'd. Qi, make talke. 

4 remembred. Qi, remember. 

5 spoke . . . sung. Qi, spoken, And how spoke when I sight 
song. 

7 at. Qi, in ; Q5a, of; Q6, F, are. 
12 ugly. Qi, B, ugly, sir. 



Scene II.] J^Jjiteter 239 

King. About eighteene ? 

Are. I never ask'd his age. 

King. Is he full of service ? 

Are. By your pardon, why doe you aske ? 

King. Put him away. 

Are. Sir ? 

King, Put him away I say. 

H'as done you that good service shames me to 

speake of. ao 

Are. Good sir, let me understand you. 

King. If you feare me, 

Shew it in duty ; put away that boy. 

Are. Let me have reason for it, sir, and then 
Your will is my command. 

King. Doe not you blush to aske it .'' Cast 

him off, 25 

Or I shall doe the same to you. Y'are one 
Shame with me, and so neere unto my selfe, 
That, by my life, I dare not tell my selfe, 
What you, my selfe, have done. 

Are. What have I done, my lord .? 30 

King. Tis a new language, that all love to 
learn : 

19 I iay^ only Qi, Q2. 23 sir. Qi omits. 

24 my. Qi,a. 

26 the same. Qi, that shame. Vare. Qi, ye are. 

27 unto. Qi omits. 

28 my life. Qi, the gods. I dare. Qi, I'd dare. 

30 have I, Qi, Q3-F. Q2, I have. my lord. Qi omits. 



240 ^t)ila0ter [act m. 

The common people speake it well already ; 
They need no grammer. Understand me well, 
There be foule whispers stirring. Cast him off, 
And suddenly ; doe it ! Farewell. Exit King. 35 

Jre. Where may a maiden live securely free, 
Keeping her honour faire ? Not with the living ; 
They feede upon opinions, errours, dreames. 
And make um truths ; they draw a nourishment 
Out of defamings, grow upon disgraces, 4° 

And when they see a vertue fortefied 
Strongly above the battry of their tongues. 
Oh, how they cast to sinke it ! and defeated, 
(Soule sicke with poison) strike the monuments 
Where noble names lie sleeping, till they sweat, 45 
And the cold marble melt. 

Enter Philaster. 

Philaster. Peace to your fairest thoughts, deer- 
est mistresse. 

Are. Oh, my deerest servant, I have a warre 
within me. 

Phi. He must be more then man that makes 
these christals 
Run into rivers. Sweetest faire, the cause ? 50 

And as I am your slave, tied to your goodnesse, 

36 maiden. Qi, maid. 37 faire. Q4-F, safe, 

39 truths. Qi, truth. 43 cast. Qi, mind. 

44 Soule. Qi, foule. strike the monuments. Ql, stricke 
the mountaines. 

45 ^'^' Q^> ^^' 47 ^^^^^^i- Th, B, my dearest. 



Scene II.] ^\)i\umt 24I 

Your creature, made againe from what I was, 
And newly spirited, I'le right your honor. 

Jre. Oh, my best love, that boy ! 

Phi. What boy ? 

Jre. The pretty boy you gave me. 

Phi. What of him ? 55 

Jre. Must be no more mine. 

Phi Why ? 

Jre. They are jealous of him. 

Phi. Jealous, who ? 

Jre. The King. 

Phi. [aside~\ . Oh, my misfortune ! 

Then tis no idle jealousie. — Let him goe. 

Jre. Oh, cruel ! 
Are you hard hearted too ? who shall now tell 

you, 60 

How much I lovd you ? who shal sweare it to 

you. 
And weepe the teares I send ? Who shall now 

bring you 
Letters, rings, bracelets ? loose his health in 
service ? 

53 ^'^^- Q4'39~i36> ^^- honor. Q6, F, honours. 

57 my misfortune^ Qi, B. Q3, my my fortune ; Q4-F, D, my 
fortune, 

58 him. Q5a, me. 

59-69 Oh, cruel . . . Philaster. Verse-division as in Th, W, 
D, B. Qq, F, end lines with tooy youy send^ bracelets^ nights^ sing^ 
souhy mourne, ill, eye-lids, Philaster. 

62 you. Q6, your. 



242 pt)ila0ter [act m. 

Wake tedious nights in stories of your praise ? 
Who shall [now] sing your crying elegies ? 65 

And strike a sad soule into senseless pictures, 
And make them mourne ? Who shall take up 

his lute, 
And touch it, till he crowne a silent sleepe 
Upon my eye-lids, making me dreame, and cry, 
" Oh my deere, deare Philaster " ? 

Phi. \_aside'j . Oh my heart ! 70 

Would he had broken thee, that made thee 

know 
This lady was not loyall ! — Mistrisse, 
Forget the boy, Pie get thee a farre better. 

Jre. Oh never, never such a boy againe 
As my Bellario ! 

Phi. Tis but your fond ajfFection. 75 

y^re. With thee, my boy, farewel for ever 
All secrecy in servants ! Farewel faith, 
And all desire to doe well for it selfe ! 
Let all that shall succeed thee, for thy wrongs. 
Sell and betray chaste love. 80 

Phi. And all this passion for a boy ? 

64 Ff^ake. Qi, make. 65 noiVy Qi, D, B. 

67 mourne. Qi, warme. 69 eye-lids. Q4— F, eye-lid. 

69 making. Qi, make. 

72-73 This lady . . . better. Dyce's division. Q2-F end 
1. 72 v/\t\i forget. Qi ends 1. 72 with loyally and 1. 73 with thee. 
73 thee. Qi, you, 77 secrecy. Qi, service. 

78 desire . . . it selfe. Qi, desires to doe well, for thy sake. 



Scene II.] jai^ila^tet 243 

Are. He was your boy, and you put him to 
me, 
And the losse of such must have a mourning for. 

Phi. O thou forgetful] woman ! 

Are. How, my lord ? 

Phi. False Arethusa ! 85 

Hast thou a medicine to restore my wits, 
When I have lost um ? If not, leave to talke 
And doe thus. 

Are, Doe what, sir ? would you sleepe ? 

Phi. For ever, Arethusa. Oh you gods. 
Give me a worthy patience ! Have I stood 90 

Naked, alone, the shocke of many fortunes ? 
Have I seene mischiefes numberlesse and 

mighty 
Growe like a sea upon me ? Have I taken 
Danger as stern as death into my bosome. 
And laught upon it, made it but a mirth, 95 

And flung it by ? Do I live now like him, 
Under this tyrant King, that languishing 
Hears his sad bell and sees his mourners ? Doe I 
Beare all this bravely, and must sinke at length 

82 to. Ql, unto. 

89 Fhi. Qi omits by mistake. you gods. Qi, ye gods, ye 
gods. 

90 tuorthy. Qi, wealthy. 91 alone. Ql, Above. 
92 mischiefes. Qi, mischiefe. 93 like. F, live. 

94 stern. Qi, deepe. 96 flung. Qi, flowing. 

98 Hears. Qi, heare. 99 must. Qi omits. 



244 ^Uhmt [Act III. 

Under a womans falshood ? Oh that boy, ^oo 

That cursed boy ? None but a villaine boy 
To ease your lust ? 

y^re. Nay, then I am betrayed. 

I feele the plot cast for my overthrow. 
Oh, I am wretched ! 

Pbi. Now you may take that little right I have 105 
To this poor kingdome : give it to your joy, 
For I have no joy in it. Some farre place. 
Where never woman kinde durst set her foote 
For bursting with her poisons, must I seeke. 
And live to curse you : "o 

There dig a cave, and preach to birds and beasts 
What woman is, and helpe to save them from 

you; 
How heaven is in your eyes, but in your hearts 
More hell then hell has ; how your tongues, 

like scorpions. 
Both heale and poyson ; how your thoughts are 

woven "5 

With thousand changes in one subtle webbe. 
And worne so by you ; how that foolish man, 
That reades the story of a womans face, 

109 poisons. Ql, poyson. 

111 TAere. Ql, and there. hirJs and beasts. Ql, beasts 
and birds. 

112 luoman is. Ql, women are. and helpe . . .you. Ql 
omits. 

117 so. Ql omits. man. Qi, men. 

118 reades. Qi, reade. 



Scene II.] ^l^ihmt 245 

And dies beleeving It, is lost for ever ; 

How all the good you have Is but a shaddow, 120 

Pth morning with you, and at night behind you, 

Past and forgotten ; how your vowes are frosts, 

Fast for a night, and with the next sun gone ; 

How you are, being taken all together, 

A meere confusion, and so dead a chaos, 125 

That love cannot distinguish. These sad texts, 

Till my last houre, I am bound to utter of you. 

So farewell all my woe, all my delight ! 

Exit Phi\_laster]. 

Are. Be merclfull, ye gods, and strike me dead ! 

What way have I deserv'd this ? Make my 

breast 130 

Transparant as pure christal, that the world. 
Jealous of me, may see the foulest thought 
My heart holds. Where shall a woman turne 

her eyes. 
To finde out constancy ? 

Enter Bell\ario.'\ 

Save me, how blacke 
And guiltily, me thinkes that boy lookes now ! 135 
Oh, thou dissembler, that before thou spak'st 

izz frosts. Q I, frost. l^() ye. Qi, you ; Q5a omits. 

131 as pure christal. Ql omits ; Q3, as a pure christal. 

133 a ivoman turne her. Qi, women turne their. 

134 Enter Bellario, placed as in Qi, which has, ** Enter boy." 
Q2-F place entry at end of the line. 

135 guiltily. Qi, vile; Q3-F, guilty. 

136 spak'st. Qi,spokst; Q6, speak'st. 



246 ja^itoter [Act III. 

Wert in thy cradle false ! sent to make lies, 

And betray innocents ! thy lord and thou 

May glory in the ashes of a maid 

Foold by her passion ; but the conquest is 140 

Nothing so great as wicked. Flie away ! 

Let my command force thee to that which 

shame 
Would do without it. If thou understoodst 
The loathed office thou hast undergone, 
Why,thouwouldsthide thee under heapes of hills, 145 
Least men should dig and finde thee. 

Bellario. Oh, what god. 

Angry with men, hath sent this strange disease 
Into the noblest minds ? Madam, this griefe 
You adde unto me is no more than drops 
To seas, for which they are not scene to swell: 150 
My Lord hath strucke his anger through my 

heart. 
And let out all the hope of future joyes. 
You need not bid me flye ; I came to part. 
To take my latest leave. Farewell for ever ! 
I durst not runne away in honesty 155 

From such a lady, like a boy that stole. 
Or made some grievous fault. The power of gods 

138 betray innocents. Qi, to betray innocence. 

139 May. Qi, Maist. 144 undergone. Qi, undertooke. 
146 men. Qi, we. 147 men. Qi, me. 

151 hath. Qi, has } F, had. 

153 You. Qi, Ye. 157 grievous. Qi, greater. 



Scene II.] ^^Mmt 247 

Assist you in your sufferings ! Hasty time 

Reveale the truth to your abused lord 

And mine, that he may know your worth ; 

whilst I 160 

Goe seeke out some forgotten place to dye ! 

Exit Bell \ario'\ . 
Are. Peace guide thee ! Thou hast over- 
throwne me once ; 
Yet if I had another Troy to lose, 
Thou, or another villaine with thy lookes, 
Might talke me out of it, and send me naked, 165 
My haire disheveld, through the fiery streetes. 
Enter a Lady. 
Lady, Madam, the King would hunt, and 
calls for you 
With earnestnesse. 

Are. I am in tune to hunt ! 

Diana, if thou canst rage with a maid 
As with a man, let me discover thee 170 

Bathing, and turne me to a fearefull hynde. 
That I may dye persued by cruell hounds. 
And have my story written in my wounds. 

Exeunt. 

158 sufferings. Qi, suffering. 

162 Thou hast, 0^1. Q2-F, th'ast. 

163 Vet . . . Troy. Qi, but . . . time, 
165 talke. Qi, take. 



Actus 4. Sccena I. 

\_Before the Pa lace. '\ 

Enter Kingy Pharamond, Arethusa, Galatea, Megra, 
Dion, Cleremonty Thrasilin, and Attendants, 

King. What, are the hounds before, and all 
the woodmen ? 
Our horses ready, and our bowes bent ? 

Dion. All, sir. 

King [to Pharamond~\. Y'are clowdy, sir; 
come, we have forgotten 
Your veniall trespasse ; let not that sit heavy 
Upon your spirit ; heres none dare utter it. 5 

Dion. He lookes like an old surfeited stallion 
after his leaping, dull as a dormouse : see how 
he sinks ; the wench has shot him betweene 
winde and water, and I hope sprung a leake. 

Thrasiline. He needes no teaching, he strikes 10 
sure enough : his greatest fault is, he hunts too 
much in the purlues ; would hee wod leave off 
poaching ! 

Dion. And for his home, has left it at the 

and Attendants. Qi, and two Wood-men. 

3 to Pharamond^ D, B. Y'are. Ql, you are. 

4 trespasse. Ql, trespasses. 

5 heres. Q4-F omit. dare. Ql, dares. 

6 Dion. Qi, *<Cle." 9 leake. Qi, lake. 



Scene L] p\)ilSi&ttt 249 

lodge where he lay late. Oh, hee*s a pretious 15 
lyme-hound ! turne him loose upon the pursuit 
of a lady, and if he lose her, hang him up i'th 
slip. When my fox-bitch Bewty growes proud, 
rie borrow him. 

King. Is your boy turn'd away ? 20 

Arethusa. You did command sir, and I obeyd 
you. 

King. Tis well done. Harke ye furder. 

Clereniont. Is't possible this fellow should re- 
pent ? Mee thinkes that were not noble in him ; 25 
and yet he lookes like a mortefied member, as 
if hee had a sicke mans salve in's mouth. If 
a worse man had done this fault now, some 
physicall justice or other would presently (with- 
out the helpe of an almanacke) have opened the 30 
abstructions of his liver, and let him blood with 
a dogge-whippe. 

Dion. See, see, how modestly yon lady lookes, 
as if she came from churching with her neigh- 
bours ! Why, what a divell can a man see in her 35 
face, but that shee's honest ? 

15 pretious. Qi, pernitious. 

16 loose. Qi omits. pursuit. Q1-Q3, pursue. 

17 a. Qi, any. 

20—23 i^ • • • furder. D prints as two verse-lines, ending the 
first with sir. 2 1 obeyd. F, obey. 

24 Cleremont. Qi, *'Leon," and the next speech to "Tra." 
33 y^^- QS^^j your. 34 neighbours. Q3-F, neighbour. 

35 a man, Qi, you. 



250 |^t)ila0ter [act iv. 

Thra. P'aith, no great matter to speake of; a 
foolish twinckling with the eye, that spoiles her 
coate ; but hee must be a cunning harald that 
findes it. 40 

Dion. See how they muster one another ! O 
there's a rancke regiment, where the divell car- 
ries the colours, and his dam drum-major ! now 
the world and the flesh come behinde with the 
carriage. 45 

Cle. Sure this lady has a good turne done her 
against her will ; before she was common talke, 
now none dare say cantharides can stirre her. 
Her face lookes like a warrant, willing and com- 
manding all tongues, as they will answer it, to 5° 
bee tied up and bolted when this lady meanes 
to let her selfe loose. As I live, shee has got her 
a goodly protection, and a gracious ; and may 
use her body discreetely, for her health sake, 
once a weeke, excepting Lent and Dog-dayes. 55 
Oh, if they were to bee got for money, what a 

37 Thra. Qi,"Cle."; Q4-F, <<Pha." Faith. Q4-F, 

Troth. 

41 Dion. Qi, **Tra," and the following speech to *'Leon.'* 
one. Qi, on. 

42 regiment. Qi, regient. 43 dam. Qi, damn'd. 
44 the ivorld and the fie^h. Qi, the flesh and the world. 
46 done her. Qi omits her. 48 dare. Qi, dares, 

52 her. Qi omits. 

54 health. Q4'39-F, D, B, health's. 

55 excepting. Qi, except. 



Scene II] ^l^iU^ttt 25 1 

large sum would come out of the city for these 
licences ! 

King. To horse, to horse ! we loose the 
morning, gentlemen. Exeunt, 60 

[Scene II. 

A Forest. 2 

Enter two Woodmen, 

1st Woodman. What, have you lodged the 
deere ? 

2d Woodman. Yes, they are ready for the bow. 

1st Wood. Who shootes ? 

2nd Wood. The princesse. S 

1st Wood. No shee'l hunt. 

2nd Wood. Shee'l take a stand, I say. 

1st Wood. Who else ? 

2nd Wood. Why, the young stranger prince. 

1st Wood. Hee shall shoote in a stone bow 10 
for me. I never lov'd his beyond-sea-ship since 
hee forsooke the say, for paying ten shillings. 
He was there at the fall of a deere, and would 
needes (out of his mightinesse) give ten groates 
for the dowcets ; marry, his steward would have 15 

57 ^<^rge, Ql, Q2. Q3-F, D, B, great. 

Exeunt. Q I , Exit King and Lords, Manet Wood-men. 
2 deere. Qi, Deere below. 9 stranger. Qi, strange. 

15 dowcets. Qi, docets ; (34*39-?, dowcers. 

his^ Qi. Qa-F, the. tuould have. Q5-F, would have had. 



252 J^t)ila0ter [activ. 

the velvet head into the bargaine, to turfe his 
hat withall : I thinke he should love venery, he 
is an old Sir Tristram ; for if you be remem- 
bred, he forsooke the stagge once to strike a 
raskall miching in a medow, and her he kild in ^o 
the eye. Who shootes else ? 

2nd Wood. The lady Galatea. 

1st Wood. That's a good wench, and shee 
vi^ould not chide us for tumbling of her women 
in the brakes. She's liberall, and, by the gods, 25 
they say she's honest, and whether that be a 
fault [or no,] I have nothing to doe. There's 
all? 

2nd Wood. No, one more, Megra. 

1st Wood. That's a firker, I faith, boy. There's 30 
a wench will ride her haunches as hard after 
a kennell of hounds as a hunting saddle; and 
when she comes home, get um clapt, and all is 
well againe. I have knowne her lose her selfe 
three times in one afternoone (if the woods have 35 
beene answerable), and it has been worke enough 
for one man to iinde her, and he has sweat for 

18 h an. Qi, and. you^ Qi, ye. 19 the. Qi, a. 

20 michingj Th. Qq, F, milking, which Boas retains. B (qy. ), 
walking. 23 and. Qi, an. 

25 the gods. G4-F, D, my bow. she^ s. Qi omits. 

27 or no, only Ql. 34 have. Ql, Q6, F, had. 

36 //. Qi omits. 

1^'] he. Qi omits. for it. Qi, for't. 



Scene II] ^l^Mmt 253 

it. She rides well, and she payes well. Harke, 
let's goe. Exeunt. 

Enter Philaster. 
Philaster, Oh, that I had beene nourish'd in 

these woods 40 

With milke of goates and akrons, and not 

knowne 
The right of crownes, nor the dissembling traines 
Of womens lookes ; but dig'd my selfe a cave, 
Where I, my fire, my cattell, and my bed 
Might have been shut together in one shed ; 45 
And then had taken me some mountaine girle, 
Beaten with winds, chaste as the hardned rocks 
Whereon she dwelt, that might have strewed my 

bed 
With leaves, and reedes, and with the skins of 

beasts. 
Our neighbours, and have borne at her big 

breasts 5° 

My large course issue. This had beene a life 
Free from vexation. 

Enter Bellario. 
Bellar'to. Oh wicked men ! 

An innocent may walke safe among beasts ; 

38-39 Harke^ let's goe. Qi, Hark else. 
40 these. Qi, the. 41 akrons. Ql, acrons. 

43 iv omens lookes. Qi, cruell love. 

47 hardned rocks. Qi, rocke. 48 dtvelt^ Ql. Q2-F, 

dwells. 50 borne at her. Qi, borne out her. 

53 innocent. F, innocent man. 



254 J^tiilasfter [act iv. 

Nothing assaults me here. See, my grieved lord 
Sits as his soule were searching out a way 55 

To leave his body ! — Pardon me that must 
Breake thy last commandement ; for I must 

speake : 
You that are grievM can pitty ; heare, my lord ! 

Phi. Is there a creature yet so miserable, 
That I can pity ? 

Bell. Oh, my noble lord, 60 

View my strange fortune, and bestow on me. 
According to your bounty (if my service 
Can merrit nothing), so much as may serve 
To keepe that little piece I hold of life 
From cold and hunger. 

Phi. Is it thou ? be gone ! 65 

Go sell those misbeseeming cloathes thou wear- 

est. 
And feed thy selfe with them. 

Bell. Alas, my lord, I can get nothing for 
them : 
The silly countrey people thinke tis treason 
To touch such gay things. 

Phi. Now, by the gods, this is 70 

Unkindly done, to vex me with thy sight ; 

54 See. Qi, I see. 56 must. Qi omits. 

61 fortune. Qi, fortunes. 

65-70 Phi. Is it . . . gay things. Ql omits. 

66 ivearest. Q4'39-F, wear'st. 

70 by the gods. Q4-F, D, my life. 



Scene II] ^^hmt 255 

Th*art falne againe to thy dissembling trade. 
How shouldst thou thinke to cozen me againe ? 
Remaines there yet a plague untride for me ? 
Even so thou wepst, and lookst,and spokst, when 

first 75 

I tooke thee up : curse on the time ! If thy 
Commanding teares can work on any other, 
Use thy art ; Fie not betray it. Which way 
Wilt thou take, that I may shun thee ? 
For thine eyes are poison to mine ; and I 80 

Am loth to grow in rage. This way, or that 

way ? 
Be/L Any will serve, but I will chuse to have 
That path in chase that leades unto my grave. 
Exit PhiUaster and~^ Bell[ario\ severally. 
Enter Dion and the Woodmen. 

Dion. This is the strangest suddaine chance ! 

— You woodman ! 
1st Woodman. My Lord Dion ? 85 

Dion. Saw you a lady come this way on a 
sable horse studded with starres of white .? 

72 TK" art. Ql, thou art. 

75 looht, and. Q4-F omit. first I. Qi, I first. 

76-81 / tooke . . . that ivay. Verse-division of Q2,-F. B 
transfers ivhich ivay from 1. 78 to 1. 79 and follows Th, in changing 
ro of 1. 80 to "unto." W, D, make seven lines, ending «/>, 
teares, art, take, pot son, rage, "way. 76 up. Qi omits. 

Enter, etc. Qi, Enter Leon, Cle. and Wood-men, 

84 chance. Q6, F, change. 85 ist Woodman. Ql, "Cle.'* 

87 studded. Qi, starre-dyed j Q6, F, stubbed. 



256 ja^ila0ter [act iv. 

2nd Woodman. Was she not young and tall ? 

Dion, Yes. Rode she to the wood, or to the 
plaine ? 

2nd Wood. Faith, my lord, we saw none. 90 

Exit Woodmen. 

Dion. Poxe of your questions then ! — 
Enter Cleremont. 

What, is she found ? 

Cleremont. Nor will be, I thinke. 

Dion. Let him seeke his daughter himselfe : 
shee cannot stray about a little necessary naturall 
businesse, but the whole court must be in armes; 95 
when she has done, we shall have peace. 

Cle. There's already a thousand fatherlesse 
tales amongst us ; some say her horse ran away 
with her ; some, a wolfe persued her ; others, 
t'was a plot to kill her, and that arm'd men 100 
were seene in the wood ; but questionlesse, she 
rode away willingly. 

Enter King, and Thrasiline. 

King. Where is she ? 

Cle. Sir, I cannot tell. 

King. How's that? 

Answer me so againe. 

Cle. Sir, shall I lie ? 

88 2nd Woodman. Ql, " i Wood." 91 your. Q2, you. 
Enter Cleremont. Ql omits. 98 ran. Qi, Q5b-F, run. 

100 invaz. Q3, it was. arm d. Qi, armed. 

103 How''s. Q3-F, How is. 104 C/e. Qi, "Leon.'* 



Scene II.] ^^ih&ttX 257 

King, Yes, lie and damne, rather then tell me 
that. 105 

I say againe, where is she ? Mutter not ! — 
Sir, speake you, where is she ? 

Dion, Sir, I doe not know. 

King. Speake that againe so boldly, and, by 
heaven. 
It is thy last. — You fellowes, answer me. 
Where is she ? Marke me all, I am your king, no 
I wish to see my daughter ; shew her me ; 
I doe command you all, as you are subjects. 
To shew her me. What ! am I not your king ? 
If I, then am I not to be obeyed ? 

Dion. Yes, if you command things possible 

and honest. "5 

King. Things possible and honest ! Heare 
me, thou, — 
Thou traytor, that dar'st confine thy king to 

things 
Possible and honest ; shew her me, 
Or let me perish, if I cover not 
All Cicilie with blood. 

Dion. Faith, I cannot, 120 

Unlesse you tell me where she is. 

114 t^en. Qi, why then, 

I16-117 Heare . . . traytor. Qi, heare me then, thou traytor. 

117— 118 things . . . honest. Qi, possible and honest, things. 

120 Faith. Q4-F, D, Indeed. 

121 you. Qi, you'le. 



258 piiilasfcer [activ. 

King. You have betrayed me j you have let 
me loose 
The Jewell of my life : goe, bring her me. 
And set her here before me : tis the King 
Will have it so, whose breath can still the 

winds, 1*5 

Unclowd the sun, charme downe the swelling 

sea. 
And stop the flouds of heaven. Speake, can it 
not? 
Dion. No. 
King. No ? Cannot the breath of kings 

doe this ? 
Dion. No ; nor smell sweete it selfe, if once 
the lungs 
Be but corrupted. 

King. Is it so ? Take heed ! 130 

Dion. Sir, take you heed how you dare the 
powers 
That must be just. 

King. Alas, what are we kings ? 

Why doe you gods place us above the rest. 
To be serv'd, flatter'd, and ador'd, till we 
Beleeve we hold within our hands your thunder ? 135 

122 you have, Qi. Q2-F, y'have. 

124 here. Q6, F, omit. 128 kings. Ql, a King. 

129 Dion. Qi, **Cle." No; nor. Qr, no more. 

130 Is it so. <^i omits. Take. Q^i^ Take you. 

131 Sir. Qi omits. 134 till. Qi, still. 



Scene II] ^\)iUfSittt 259 

And when we come to try the power we have, 
There's not a leaf shakes at our threatnings. 
I have sind tis true, and here stand to be 

punish'd ; 
Yet would not thus be punish'd; let me chuse 
My way, and lay it on. 140 

Dion. He articles with the gods ; would 
some body would draw bonds for the perform- 
ance of covenants betwixt them ! 

E/iUr Pha\_ramondlj^y Gaktea, and Megra, 

King. What, is she found ? 

Pharamond. No, we have tane her horse, 

He gallopt empty by. There's some treason : 145 
You, Galatea, rode with her into the wood ; 
Why left you her ? 

Galatea. She did command me. 

King. Command ! you should not. 

Gal. T' would ill become my fortunes and 
my birth 
To disobey the daughter of my king. 150 

King. Y'are all cunning to obey us for our hurt. 
But I will have her. 

Pha. If I have her not. 

By this hand, there shall be no more Cicilie. 

136 toe have. Qi, we thinke we have. 

138 stand, ^i, I stand. 

139 thus. Q I, these. 143 co-venants. Qi, covenant. 
146 ivith her into the •wood. Qi, into the Wood with her. 
148 King. 2i, **Pha." 151 T'are. Qi, O y'are. hurt. 

Ql, hurts. 153 hand. Qi, sword. 



26o jai)ila0ter [act iv. 

Dion. What, will he carry it to Spaine in*s 

pocket ? 
Pha, I will not leave one man alive, but the 

King, ^55 

A cooke, and a taylor. 

Dion. Yes, you may do well to spare your 
lady bedfellow, and her you may keep for a 
spawner. 

King. I see the injuries I have done must be 

reveng'd. i6o 

Dion. Sir, this is not the way to finde her out. 
King. Run all, disperse your selves. The 
man that findes her. 
Or (if she be kild) the traytor. Fie make him 
great. 
Dion. I know some would give five thousand 
pounds to finde her. 165 

Pha. Come, let us seeke. 
King. Each man a severall way, here I my 

selfe. 
Dion. Come geitlemen, we here. 
Cle. Lady, you must goe search too. 
Megra. I had rather be search'd my selfe. 170 

Exit omnes. 

157 Tes. S4-F, D, Yet. spare, ^i, leave. 

X58 lady. Q6, F, ladies. and her . . . spaivner. Qi, here 
for a spincer. 164 I knoiv some. Qi, I, some. 

1 66-1 67 Pha. King. Qi gives these speeches to " King " and 
" Pha." respectively. 

170 Megra. Qi, " Gal." be search'd. Qi, the search. 



Scene III.] ptjltotet 26 1 

[Scene III. 
Another Part of the Forest."] 
Enter Arethusa. 

Arethusa. Where am I now ? Feete finde me 
out a way, 
Without the counsell of my troubled head, 
rie follow you boldly about these woods, 
O're mountaines, thorow brambles, pits, and 

flouds. 
Heaven I hope will ease me. I am sicke. 

\She sits down.] 
Enter Bellario. 
Bellarlo. Yonder's my lady. God knowes I 
want nothing. 
Because I doe not wish to live ; yet I 
Will try her charity. — Oh heare, you that have 

plenty. 
From that flowing store, drop some on drie 

ground. — See, 
The lively red is gone to guard her heart ! 
I feare she faints : — Madam, looke up ! — She 
breathes not. — 

I finde . . . ivay. Qi, finde out the way. 

4 G're. QijOr. Moro-zi;, Q4' 3 9-F. gi-Q4'34, through. 
SAesits doivn, Qi. 

6-14 Yonder'' s . . . comfort, line-division Q2-F. D ends lines 
with •want, li've, hear^ store, red, faints, more, lord, is it, comfort. 

6 Tender'' s my lady. Qi, Yonder my lady is. God. Ql, gods j 
Q3-F, D, Heaven. 9 ground. Qi, grounds. 



262 pi^ilajBiter [act iv. 

Open once more those rosie twins, and send 
Unto my lord your latest farewell ! — Oh, she 

stirres ! — 
How is it, madam ? Speake comfort. 

Are, Tis not gently done, 15 

To put me in a miserable life. 
And hold me there. I prethee, let me goe, 
I shall doe best without thee ; I am well. 
Enter Philaster. 
Philaster. I am too blame to be so much in 
rage; 
rie tell her coolely, when and where I heard 20 
This killing truth. I will be temperate 
In speaking, and as just in hearing. 
Oh monstrous ! Tempt me not, you gods ! good 

gods. 
Tempt not a fraile man ! — What's he, that has 

a heart. 
But he must ease it here ! *S 

BelL My lord, helpe, helpe the princesse. 
Are. I am well : forbeare. 
Phi. Let me love lightning, let me be embrac*t 

12 more. Qi omits. twins. Qi, twines. 

13 OA. Q5b, I Oh. sAe. Q6, he. 

l^ is ft. Qi, is't. 18 I am well. Q I omits. 

23 you. F, D, ye. 24 fFhat\. Qi, Who's. 

25 here. Qi, with his tongue. 

26 helpe, helpe the^ Q1-Q3, B. Q4-Q6, help; F, help the; 
D, help, help! The. 28 lightning. Qi, lightnings. 



Scene HI.] PJilaflftet 263 

And kist by scorpions, or adore the eyes 

Of basalisks, rather than trust the tongues 3«> 

Of hell-bred women ! Some good god looke 

downe 
And shrinke these veins up ; stick me here a stone 
Lasting to ages in the memory 
Of this damned act ! — Heare me, you wicked 

ones. 
You have put hills of fire into this breast, 35 

Not to be quench'd with teares ; for which, may 

guilt 
Sit on your bosomes ! at your meales, and beds, 
Dispaire awayte you ! What, before my face ? 
Poyson of aspes between your lips ! Deseases 
Be your best issues ! Nature make a curse 40 

And throw it on you ! 

Are. Dear Philaster, leave 

To be enrag'd, and heare me. 

Phi, I have done ; 

Forgive my passion. Not the calmed sea. 
When Eolus locks up his windy brood. 
Is lesse disturb'd then I. Tie make you know't : 45 

30 the. Q4-F, to. 

1\ Of . . . donvne. Q4-F omit. ivomen. Q2, woman. 

33 ages in the. Qi omits. 

35 hills of. Q6, F, the hills on. this. Qi, my. 

40 make. Q4-Q5, makes. 

41 throw. Q2 misprints^ through. 

42 To be enrag'd. Qi, To inrage. 

45 knoiv't, Q2. Q3-F, D, B, know it. Qi, know. 



264 pi)ila0ter [act iv. 

Dear Arethusa, doe but take this sword, 
And search how temperate a heart I have ; 
Then you and this your boy may live and 

raigne 
In lust without controle. — Wilt thou, Bellario ? 
I prethee kill me ; thou art poore, and maist 50 
Nourish ambitious thoughts ; when I am dead, 
Thy way were freer. Am I raging now ? 
If I were mad I should desire to live. 
Sirs, feele my pulse ; whether have you knowne 
A man in a more equall tune to die ? 55 

Bell. Alas, my lord, your pulse keepes mad- 
mans time ! 
So does your tongue. 

Phi. You will not kill me then ? 

Are. Kill you ? 

Bell. Not for the world. 

Phi. I blame not thee, 

Bellario : thou hast done but that which gods 
Would have transform'd themselves to do. Be 

gone ! 60 

Leave me without reply; this is the last 

45 Q I adds stage-direction, offers his draivn sivord. 

46 doe but. Qi omits. 

52 Thy, Qi. Qa-F, This. 

54 have you. Qi, D, you have. 55 '^^ Q' omits. 

56 Bell. Qi, ** Prin.," i.e., Arethusa. madmans. Qi, mad- 
mens. 

58 Are . . . Bell. Qi, "Boy." . . . " Prin." the. Q4- 

F,a. 



Scene HI.] |3l)ila0ter 265 

Of all our meetings. {Exit Bell[ario.']) Kill me 

with this sword ; 
Be wise, or worse will follow *, we are two 
Earth cannot beare at once. Resolve to doe, 
Or suffer. 65 

Are. If my fortune be so good, to let me fall 
Upon thy hand, I shall have peace in death. 
Yet tell me this, will there be no slanders. 
No jealousie in the other world, no ill there ? 

Phi. No. 70 

Jre. Shew me then the way. 

Phi. Then guide my feeble hand. 
You that have power to doe it, for I must 
Performe a peece of justice. — If your youth 
Have any way offended heaven, let prayers 75 

Short and effectuall reconcile you to it. 

Are. I am prepared. 

Enter a Countrey Fellow. 

Country Fellow. Fie see the King, if he be in 
the forrest ; I have hunted him these two houres. 
If I should come home and not see him, my 80 

62 meetings^ Qi. Q2-F, meeting. 

66 fortune. Qi, F, fortunes. 67 in death. Ql, with earth. 

68 ivill there. Qi, Q2, there will. 

69 jealousie, Q1-Q4. Q5-F, D, B, jealousies. 
there. Qi, here. 

71 Sheiv . . . ijuay. Q i , Shew me the way to joy. 

76 to it. Qi, to't. 

Enter . . Fellow. Qi, Enter . . Gallant. 78 Fie. Ql, I wiU. 

79 these. Ql, this. houres. Q3, Q4, houre. 



266 Pl^ttoter [Act IV. 

sisters would laugh at me. I can see nothing but 
people better horst then my selfe, that outride 
me ; I can heare nothing but showting. These 
kings had need of good braines ; this whooping 
is able to put a meane man out of his wits. 85 
There's a courtier with his sword drawn ; by 
this hand, upon a woman I thinke. 

Phi, Are you at peace ? 

Jre. With heaven and earth. 

Phi. May they divide thy soule and body ! 

\_Wounds her,'^ 

Coun, Hold, dastard, strike a woman ! Th'art 90 
a craven, I warrant thee ; thou wouldst bee loth 
to play halfe a dozen venies at wasters with a 
good fellow for a broken head. 

Phi. Leave us, good friend. 

Jre, What ill-bred man art thou, to intrude 
thy selfe 95 

Upon our private sports, our recreations. 

82 then. Q2 misprints, then then. outride. Q4'39, Qsb, 
Q6, outrid. 

84 good. Qi, strong. this. Qi, the. 

85 /j . . . man. Qi, would put a man. 

88 Are . . . earth. B includes May they in this line. 
heanjen. F, Heavens. 

89 May. Qi, Nay. 

fVounds her. Qi, '* Phy. wounds her " after peace, 1. 88. 

91 thoutvouldst. Qi, thoud'st; Q3-Q6, thou wouldest. 

92 dozen. Q4-F, dozen of. venies. Q2, Q3, spell, veines. 

93 good fellow. Qi, man. 



Scene III.] |Bl|ila0ter 267 

Coun. God uds me, I understand you not ; 
but I know the rogue has hurt you. 

Phi. Persue thy owne affaires ; it will be ill 
To multiply blood upon my head, which thou 100 
Wilt force me to. 

Coun, I know not your rethoricke, but I can 
lay it on if you touch the woman. They fight. 

Phi. Slave, take what thou deservest ! 

Are. Heaven guard my lord ! 

Coun. Oh, doe you breathe ? 105 

Phi. I heare the tread of people. I am hurt ; 
The gods take part against me ; could this boore 
Have held me thus else ? I must shift for life, 
Though I doe loathe it. I would finde a course 
To lose it rather by my will then force. no 

Exit Philaster. 

Coun. I cannot follow the rogue : I preethee 
wench, come kisse me now. 
Enter Phara\mond~\ , Dion, Cie \remont~\ , Thrasi\Jine'\ 
and Woodmen. 

Pharamond. What art thou ? 

Coun. Almost kild I am for a foolish woman ; 
a knave has hurt her. ns 

97 uds me. Ql, judge me; Q4-F, uds. 

98 you. Qi, ye. 102 rethoricke. Ql, Rethrack. 
104 Heaven. Qi, Gods 5 Q4-F, D, Heavens. 
107 could. Qi, would. 109 loathe. Qi, lose. 
112 come kisse, Qi, B. Q2-F, D, come and kiss. 

-nr J /-»- It r >> 



107 could, yi, would. ic 

112 come kisse, Qi, B. Q2-F, 

113 PAaramond. Qi, "Leon.' 



268 l^^itoter [Act IV. 

Pha. The princesse, gentlemen ! Where's 
the wound madam ? Is it dangerous ? 

Jre. He has not hurt me. 

Coun. By God, she liesj has hurt her in the 
breast, 
Look else. 

Pha. O sacred spring of innocent blood ! no 

Dion. Tis above wonder ! who should dare 
this ? 

Jre. I felt it not. 

Pha. Speake villaine, who has hurt the prin- 
cesse ? 

Coun. Is it the princesse ? 

Dion. I. 125 

Coun. Then I have scene something yet. 

Pha. But who has hurt her ? 

Coun. I told you, a rogue ; I ne're saw him 
before, I. 

Pha. Madam, who did it ? 

Jre. Some dishonest wretch ; 

Alas, I know him not, and doe forgive him. 130 

Coun. Hee's hurt too ; he cannot goe farre; I 
made my fathers olde foxe flie about his eares. 

119 By God. Q3-F, D, I'faith. in the. Qi, i'the. 

120 Look else, Qq, F, include in preceding line. sacred. Qi, 
oh secret. 125 Dion. I. Qi, Omnes. I. 

127 Pha. Qi, "Leon." hurt her. Qi, done it. 

129-130 Some. . . for give him. Verse-division of D j one line 
in Qq, F. 132 made. Qi, let. about his. Qi, about' s. 



Scene HI.] ^}^iUmt 269 

Pha. How will you have me kill him ? 

Jre. Not at all; tis some distracted fellow. 

Pha. By this hand, I'le leave never a piece 135 
of him bigger then a nut, and bring him all to 
you in my hat. 

j^re. Nay, good sir ; 
If you doe take him, bring him quicke to me, 
And I will study for a punishment, 140 

Great as his fault. 

Pha. I will. 

j^re. But sweare. 

Pha. By all my love I will. 

Woodmen, conduct the princesse to the King, 
And beare that wounded fellow to dressing. 
Come, gentlemen, wee'l follow the chase close. 145 
Exit Are\jhusa\y Pha\ramond'\y Di\on\y 
Cle \remont\ , Thra \silini\ , and i Wood- 
man. 

Coun. I pray you, friend, let me see the King. 

2nd Wood. That you shall, and receive thanks. 

Coun. If I get cleare of this. Tie goe see no 

more gay sights. Exeunt. 

135 hand. Ql,ayre. never. Q5—F, ne'er. 

136 of him. Qi omits, to you^ Qi, Q4-F omit. 

I ^i fault. Qi, sinne. 142 I ivill. Q5a, I will. I will. 

142-145 By all . . . close. Verse-division of D. Prose in 
Qq, F. 143 Woodmen. Q4-F, D, B. Q1-Q3, Woodman. 
144 to. Qi, unto. Exity etc. Qi prints simply Exit. 

147 2nd Wood. Qi, <'Cle." 

148 0/, Si-QS- Q4-F, with. goe see, F. Qi,see; 
Q2-Q6, goe to see. Exeunt. In Qq, F, opposite 1. 147. 



270 jajitoter [Act IV. 

[Scene IV. 
Another Part of the Forest.'] 

Enter Be liar to. 

Bellario. A heavinesse neere death sits on my 
brow, 
And I must sleepe. Beare me, thou gentle banke, 
For ever if thou wilt. You sweete ones all, 

\Lte5 down.'] 
Let me unworthy presse you : I could wish 
I rather were a course strewd 'ore with you 5 

Then quicke above you. Dulnesse shuts mine 

eyes. 
And I am giddy. Oh, that I could take 
So sound a sleepe that I might never wake ! 

{Sleeps. '\ 
Enter Philaster. 

Philaster. I have done ill; my conscience calls 
me false. 
To strike at her that would not strike at me. 10 
When I did fight, me thought I heard her pray 
The gods to guard me. She may be abusde. 
And I a loathed villain : if she be. 
She will conceale who hurt her. He has wounds. 
And cannot follow, neither knowes he me. 15 

Who's this ? Bellario sleeping ? If thou beest 

I A hea'vinesse neere. Qi,0 heavens! heavy. 

3 ones. Ql, on. Lies doivn^ D. 6 mine. Ql, my. 

7 Oh. Qi oniits. i6 beest. Qi, be'st. 



Scene IV.] ^\)ih^ttt 27 1 

Guilty, there is no justice that thy sleepe 
Should be so sound, and mine, whom thou hast 

wrong'd. 
So broken. (^Cry within.) Hark! I am persued. 

You gods, 
rie take this offerd meanes of my escape. 20 

They have no marke to know me but my 

blood. 
If she be true ; if false, let mischiefe light 
On all the world at once ! Sword, print my 

wounds 
Upon this sleeping boy ! I ha none, I thinke, 
Are mortal, nor would I lay greater on thee. 25 

Wounds him. 
Bell. Oh, death I hope is come ! Blest be 

that hand ! 
It meant me well. Againe, for pitties sake ! 
Phi. I have caught my selfe j 

Phi[laster] falls. 
The losse of blood hath stayed my flight. Here, 

here 
Is he that stroke thee ; take thy full revenge ; 3° 
Use me, as I did meane thee, worse then death ; 
Pie teach thee to revenge. This lucklesse hand 
Wounded the princesse ; tell my followers, 

19 Cry ivithin. So placed in Qi ; Q2.-F, after 1. 17. 

21 blood, Qi. Q2-F, wounds. 

z^ this. Qi, his. hoy. Qi, body. I ha. Q I, he has. 

27 meant. Ql, wisht. pitties. Qi, pittie. 



272 ^t)ila0ter [activ. 

Thou didst receive these hurts in staying me, 
And I will second thee ; get a reward. 35 

Bell. Fly, fly, my lord, and save your selfe. 
Phi. How's this ? 

Wouldst thou I should be safe ? 

Bell. Else were it vaine 

For me to live. These little wounds I have 
Ha not bled much ; reach me that noble hand ; 
He helpe to cover you. 

Phi. Art thou then true to me ? 40 

Bell. Or let me perish loath'd. Come, my 
good lord, 
Creepe in amongst those bushes ; who does know 
But that the gods may save your much lovM 
breath ? 
Phi. Then I shall dye for griefe, if not for 
this. 
That I have wounded thee. What wilt thou doe ? 45 
Bell. Shift for my selfe well ; peace, I heare 
um come. [^Philaster creeps into a bush."] 
Within. Follow, follow, follow ! that way 
they went. 

36 Fly, fly. Qi, Hide, hide. 

37 ivere it. Qi, it was ; Q6, F, it were. 

38 little. Qi omits. 39 Ha. Qi, has. 
40 then, only Qi. 41 good. Qi omits. 

42 amongst, Qi, F. Q2-Q6, among. those. Qi, these. 

43 much lo'v'' d breath. Ql, your breeth in't, Shromd. 

46 Philaster . . , bush, W, D, B. 

47 Folloiv, fblloiv, follow ! Qi, Follow, follow. 



Scene IV] ^\)i\Si&ttt 273 

Bel/. With my owne wounds Tie bloudy my 
owne sword. 
I need not counterfeit to fall ; heaven knowes, 
That I can stand no longer. [Fa/Is.'] 50 

Enter Pharamond^ Dion, Cleremont, Thrasiline. 
Pharamond. To this place we have tract him 

by his bloud. 
Cleremont. Yonder, my lord, creepes one 

away. 
Dion. Stay sir ; what are you ? 
Bell. A wretched creature wounded in these 
woods 
By beasts ; relieve me, if your names be men, 55 
Or I shall perish. 

Dion. This is he, my lord, 

Upon my soule, that hurt her ; tis the boy. 
That wicked boy that serv'd her. 

Tha. O, thou damn'd in thy creation ! 
What cause couldst thou shape to strike the 

princesse ? 60 

Bell. Then I am betrayed. 
Dion. Betrayed ! no, apprehended. 
Bell. I confesse ; 

(Urge it no more) that, big with evill thoughts, 

50 That. Qi omits. Falls, D. Qi, Boy falls downe. 

^i ive have. Qi, I. 

52-53 Cleremont. Dion. Ql, "Leon." *' Cle." 

56 Dion. Qi, "Tra." 57 tis. Qi, it is. 

59 thy. Q5a, the. 60 strike. Q3-F, D, B, hurt. 



274 Ptiitotet [Act IV 

I set upon her, and did make my ayme 
Her death. For charity, let fall at once 65 

The punishment you meane, and do not load 
This weary flesh with tortures. 

Pha. I will know 

Who hired thee to this deed. 

Bell. Mine owne revenge. 

Pha. Revenge, for what ? 

Bell. It pleasde her to receive 

Me as her page, and when my fortunes eb'd, 7° 
That men strid ore them carelesse, she did 

showre 
Her welcome graces on me, and did swell 
My fortunes, till they overflowed their bankes, 
Threatning the men that crost um ; when, as swift 
As stormes arise at sea, she turn'd her eyes 75 

To burning sunnes upon me, and did dry 
The streames she had bestowed, leaving me 

worse 
And more contemn'd then other little brookes, 
Because I had beene great. In short, I knew 
I could not live, and therefore did desire 80 

To dye reveng'd. 

Pha. If tortures can be found 

64 make. Q4-F, take. 67 tortures. Qi, tortour. 

67-68 Ituill . . . this deed. One line Qi, F. 

68 Mine. Qi, My. 69 Pha. Qi, " Cle." 

71 carelesse. Q4-F, carelessly. 74 um. Qi, them. 
76 sunnes. Qi, Sines. 



Scene IV] ^^U&ttt 275 

Long as thy natural life, resolve to feele 
The utmost rigour. 

Philaster creepes out of a bush, 

Cle. Helpe to leade him hence. 

Phi. Turne backe, you ravishers of innocence ! 
Know ye the price of that you beare away 85 

So rudely ? 

Pha, Who's that ? 

Dion. Tis the Lord Philaster. 

Phi. Tis not the treasure of all kings in one, 
The wealth of Tagus, nor the rocks of pearle 
That pave the court of Neptune, can weigh 

downe 
That vertue. It was I that hurt the princesse. 9° 
Place me, some god, upon a Piramis, 
Higher then hils of earth, and lend a voyce 
Loud as your thunder to me, that from thence 
I may discourse to all the under-world 
The worth that dwels in him ! 

Pha. How's this ? 

Bell. My lord, some man 95 

Weary of life, that would be glad to dye. 

Phi. Leave these untimely courtezies, Bellario. 

83 rigour. Qi, vigour. Stage-direction placed as in Qi ; after 
•vigour vn. (^z—Y . 84 innocence. Qi, innocents. 

85^6. Qi, you. that. Qi, what. 86 Tn the. Qi, My. 

87 all. Qi, all the. 90 that. Q6, as. 

91 upon a Fir amis. Qi, on a Pyramades. 

93 your. Ql, you. 94 discourse to all. Ql, teach. 

97 these . . . courtezies. Qi, this . . . courtesie. 



276 ^\)iWW [Act IV. 

Beil. Alas, hee's mad; come, will you lead 
me on ? 

Phi. By all the oaths that men ought most 
to keepe. 
And gods to punish most when men do breake, 100 
He toucht her not. — Take heede, Bellario, 
How thou dost drowne the vertues thou hast 

showne 
With perjury. — By all the gods, twas I ! 
You know she stood betwixt me and my right. 

Pha. Thy owne tongue be thy judge. 

C/e. It was Philaster. 105 

Dion. Is't not a brave boy ? 
Well, sirs, I feare me, we were all deceived. 

Phi. Have I no friend here ? 

Dion. Yes. 

Phi. Then shew it : some 

Good body lend a hand to draw us neerer. 
Would you have teares shed for you when you 

dye? "o 

Then lay me gently on his necke, that there 
I may weepe flouds, and breath forth my spirit. 

98 Aee^s. Q3-Q6, he is. lead me on. Qi, beare me hence. 
100 to, 0,1, Edd. '78. Q2-F, D, B, doe. 
loi not. Qi, nor. 103 the gods. Q4-F, D, that's good. 

105-108 Cle. . . . Phi. Qi gives these five speeches to Leon, 
Thra., Boy, Leon, and Boy, respectively. 

106 h't. Q3, Is it. 

107 sirs, I feare me. ¥ omits me; Qi, I feare me, sir. all. Ql 
omits. Ill gently. Q6, F, gentle. iiz forth. Q3-F, out. 



Scene IV.j ^f)ih^ttV 27/ 

Tis not the wealth of Plutus, nor the gold 
Lockt in the heart of earth, can buy away 
This armefull from me; this had bin a ran- 

some "5 

To have redeemed the great Augustus Caesar, 
Had he bin taken* You hard-hearted men. 
More stony than these mountaines, can you see 
Such cleere pure bloud drop, and not cut your 

flesh 
To stop his life ? to bind whose bitter wounds, 120 
Queenes ought to teare their haire, and with 

their teares 
Bath um. — Forgive me, thou that art the wealth 
Of poore Philaster. 

Enter King, Arethusa, and a Guard. 
King, Is the villaine taine ? 

Pha, Sir, here be two confessethe deede ; but 
sure 
It was Philaster. 

Phi, Question it no more ; it was. 125 

King, The fellow that did fight with him 
will tell us that. 

113 Tnnot. Qi, Not all. Plutu%. Q I, Pluto. 

119 cleere. Qi, a cleere. 120 bitter. Q4-F, better. 

121 haire. Qi, haires. 122 bathe ^ Qi, Q2-F, bath. 

124 Pha. Qi, "Leon." sure, D, B. Qi, sute. Q2- 
F, W, Boas, say. 

125 // ivas Philaster. Qq, F, include in 1. 124. Phi. Qi, 
" King." 

126 King. Qi, '* Pha." us that. Q4-F, us. 



278 ptiitoter [activ. 

Arethusa. Ay me, I know he will. 

King, Did not you know him ? 

. Are. Sir, if it was he, he was disguised. 

Phi. I was so. Oh my stars, that I should 
live still ! 

King. Thou ambitious foole, 130 

Thou that hast laid a traine for thy owne life ! 
Now I do meane to doe ; Fie leave to talke. 
Beare them to prison. 

Are. Sir, they did plot together, to take hence 
This harmlesse life ; should it passe unreveng'd, 135 
I should to earth go weeping ; grant me then. 
By all the love a father beares his child. 
Their custodies, and that I may appoint 
Their tortures and their deaths. 

Dion. Death ? soft : our law will not reach 
that for this fault. H© 

King. Tis granted ; take um to you, with a 
guard. — 
Come, princely Pharamond, this businesse past. 
We may with more security goe on 
To your intended match. 

\Exeunt all except Dioriy Cleremonty and 
Thrasiline~^ 

127 he ivill. Qi, him well. 128 ivas he. Qi, were he. 

133 therrty Qi. Q2-F, him. 136 go. Qi omits. 

137 lo've. Qi, loves, 138 and. Ql omits. 

139 deaths. Q6, F, death. 140 our. Qi, your. 

143 may. Qi, shall. 144 To your. Qi, with our. 

Exeunt y etc., D. Qi, Exit Kmg and Pharamont. 



Scene IV.] pt)ila0ter 279 

Cle. I pray that this action lose not Philaster 145 
the hearts of the people. 

Dion. Feare it not ; their overwise heads will 
thinke it but a tricke. Exeunt omnes. 



Finis Actus quarti. 

145 Cle. Qi, "Leon." 147 Dkn. Qi, "Cle. 

Finn . . , quarti. Qi, F, omit. 



Actus Quintus. Scena Prima. 
[Before the Palace.'\ 
Enter Dion, Cleremont, Thrasiline. 
Thras'iline. Has the King sent for him to 
death ? 

Dion. Yes, but the King must know tis not 
in his power to warre with heaven. 

Cleremont. We linger time ; the King sent 
for Philaster and the headsman an houre agoe. 
Thra. Are all his wounds well ? 
Dion. All ; they were but scratches, but the 
losse of bloud made him faint. 
Cle. We dally, gentlemen. 
Thra. Away ! 

Dion. Weele skuffle hard before he perish. 

Exeunt. 
[Scene II. 

J Prison. ~\ 
Enter Philaster, Arethusa, Bellario. 

Arethusa. Nay, faith, Philaster, grieve not ; 
we are well. 

Enter . . . Cleremont. Qz spells '* Clerimond " throughout 
Act V. I Thrasiline. Qi gives this speech and the seven 

succeeding ones to Leon, Cleremont, Thrasiline, Leon, Thrasiline, 
Cleremont, Leon, and Thrasiline, respectively. 

12 fVeele skuffle. Qi, a shufle. 

Exeunt. Qi, before preceding line. Exit. 

Enter y etc. Qi, Enter Phylaster, Princesse, Boy, in prison. 

I faith. Q4--F, D, dear. 



Scene IL] ptjilaSftCr 281 

Bellario. Nay, good my lord, forbeare, were 
wondrous well. 

Philaster. Oh Arethusa, O Bellario, leave to 
be kind ! 
I shall be shut from heaven, as now from earth, 
If you continue so. I am a man. 
False to a paire of the most trusty ones 
That ever earth bore : can it beare us all } 
Forgive and leave me. But the King hath sent 
To call me to my death ; oh, shew it me. 
And then forget me ! And for thee, my boy, 
I shall deliver words will mollifie 
The hearts of beasts to spare thy innocence. 

Bell. Alas, my lord, my life is not a thing 
Worthy your noble thoughts ; tis not a life, 
Tis but a peece of child-hood throwne away. 
Should I outlive you, I should then outlive 
Vertue and honour ; and when that day comes, 
If ever I shall close these eyes but once. 
May I live spotted for my perjury. 
And waste by time to nothing ! 

Are. And I (the woful'st maid that ever was, 

2 nvere^ Q2. Qi, Q3-F, D, B, we are. 3 0. Qi, and. 
4 ihut^ Qi. Q2-F, shot. a% noiu from earth. Qi omits. 

6 moit trusty. Qi, truest. 8 Forgive. Qi, forgive me. 

16 you. Q6, F, omit. I should. F, I shall, then. Qi omits. 

17 comes. Qi, come. 18 shall. F, should. 

20 by time, Qi, B. Q2, D, by limbs 5 Q3-F, my limbs. 

21 that. Q6, F, as. ivas. Qi, B, liv'd. 



282 |^l)ila0ter [actv. 

Forc't with my hands to bring my lord to death) 
Doe by the honour of a virgin sweare 
To tell no houres beyond it. 

Phi. Make me not hated so. 

Jre. Come from this prison, all joyfull to our 
deaths ! 25 

Phi. People will teare me when they find 
you true 
To such a wretch as I ; I shall dye loath'd. 
Injoy your kingdomes peaceably, whilst I 
For ever sleepe, forgotten with my faults. 
Every just servant, every maid in love, 30 

Will have a peece of me, if you be true. 

Are. My deere lord, say not so. 

Bell. A peice of you ! 

He was not born of woman that can cut it 
And looke on. 

Phi. Take me in teares betwixt you, 

For my heart will breake with shame and sor- 
row. 35 

Are. Why, tis well. 

Bell. Lament no more. 

Phi. [Why,] what would you have 

done ? 
If you had wrong'd me basely, and had found 

24 houres beyond. Qi, houre behind. 

28 kingdomes. Qi, Kingdome. 

30 sew ant. Qi, maiden. 32 deere lord. Qi, deerest. 

33 nvomanj Qi. Q2-F, women. 37 JVhy, only Ql. 



Scene III] ^^iUf^ttt 283 

Your life no price compar'd to mine ? For love, 

sirs, 
Deale with me truely. 

Be/L Twas mistaken, sir. 40 

Phi. Why if it were ? 

BeiL Then, sir, we would have ask'd 

Your pardon. 

Phi. And have hope to injoy it ? 

^re. Injoy it ! I. 

Phi. Would you indeed ? be plaine. 

Bell. We would, my lord. 

Phi. Forgive me then. 

^re. So, so. 

BeiL Tis as it should be now. 

Phi. Lead to my death. Exeunt. 45 

[Scene III. 

A Room in the Palace.'\ 

Enter King, Dion, Cleremont, Thrasilin. 

King. Gentlemen, who saw the prince ? 
Cleremont. So please you, sir, hee's gone to 
see the city 

39 Tour . . . mine^ Mason conj. W, D, B. Q2-F, My 
. . . yours ; Ql, My life no whit compared to yours « 
41-42 Then . . . pardon. Qq, F, one line. 
42 n«r, Q2. Qi, Q3-F, you. 

44 Bell. Qi, " Prin." Enter ^ etc. Qi adds, and a guard. 
% Qlermont. Qi, "Leon." 



284 l^ljilasfcer [actv. 

And the new platforme, with some gentlemen 
Attending on him. 

King. Is the princesse ready 

To bring her prisoner out ? 

Thrasiline. She waites your grace. 

King, Tell her we stay. \_Exit Thrasiline. '\ 

Dion, King, you may be deceived yet ; 

The head you aime at cost more setting on 
Than to be lost so lightly. If it must ofF; 
Like a wilde over-flow, that soopes before him 
A golden stacke, and with it shakes down 

bridges. 
Cracks the strong hearts of pines, whose cable 

roots 
Held out a thousand stormes, a thousand thun- 
ders. 
And, so made mightier, takes whole villages 
Upon his back, and in that heate of pride. 
Charges strong townes, towers, castles, pallaces, 
And layes them desolate ; so shall thy head, 
Thy noble head, bury the lives of thousands, 
That must bleed with thee like a sacrifice, 
In thy red ruines. 

3 platforme. Qi, Plotforme. 5 Thrasiline. Qi, *' Cle." 

6 Exit Thrasiline^ only Ql. 

8 to be lost. Qi, to lose it. lightly. Q5-F, slightly. After 

lightly y Qi adds stage-direction, "aside." 
10 stacke. Qi, stocke. 1 3 mightier. Ql, weightier. 

14 that. Qi, the. 16 layes. Qi, leaves. 



Scene IIL] ^^hmt 285 

Enfer Phi/aster, Arethusay Bellario, in a robe and 
gar Ian dy \and Thrasiline.'\ 

King. How now, what maske is this ? 20 

Bellario. Right royall sir, I should 
Sing you an epithelamion of these lovers, 
But having lost my best ayres with my fortunes. 
And wanting a celestiall harpe to strike 
This blessed union on, thus in glad story 25 

I give you all. These two fair cedar-branches. 
The noblest of the mountaine, where they grew 
Straightest and tallest, under whose still shades 
The worthier beasts have made their layars, and 

slep't 
Free from [the firver of] the Sirian starre 3° 

And the fell thunder-stroke, free from, the clouds, 
When they were big with humor, and deliver'd 
In thousand spouts their issues to the earth : 
O there was none but silent quiet there ! 
Till never pleased Fortune shot up shrubs, 35 

Base under-brambles, to divorce these branches ; 
And for a while they did so, and did raigne 

in a robe and garland. Qi, with a garland of flowers on's head. 
21 should. Qi, shal. 22 of these lo'vers. Qi omits. 

23 ha'ving. Q5a, have. 25 on. Qi omits. 

27 mountaine. Qi, mountaines. 
30 the firver of, only Ql. 

30-33. Free from . . . earth. Line-division of D. Q2-F, 
three lines, ending thunder-stroke, humor, earth. 

33 deli'ver^d. Q4-F. Q1-Q3, deliver. 

34 their. Qi, that. 35 pleased. Q4'39-F, pleas'd. 
36 brambles, to divorce. Qi, branches, to devour. 



286 j^t)itotet [actv. 

Over the mountaine, and choake up his beauty 
With brakes, rude thornes and thistles, till the 

sunne 
Scorcht them even to the roots and dryed them 

there ; 40 

And now a gentle gale hath blowne againe, 
That made these branches meete and twine to- 
gether, 
Never to be divided. The god that sings 
His holy numbers over marriage beds 
Hath knit their noble hearts, and here they stand 45 
Your children, mighty King : and I have done. 
King. How,*how ? 

Arethusa. Sir, if you love it in plaine truth, 
(For now there is no masking in't ) this gentle- 
man, 
The prisoner that you gave me, is become 
My keeper, and through all the bitter throwes 50 
Your jealousies and his ill fate have wrought 
him, 

38 choake. Qi, did choake; Q4'39-F, choakt. 

39 rude thornes. Qi, rud, thornes. the. Q6, F, thy. 

40 e'ven. Qi omits. roots. Qi, roote. them. Qi, un. 

41 a. Q5a omits, gentle. Q2, Q3, gentler, hath. Qi, has. 

43 di'vided. Qi, unmade j but D and B cite unarmde as read- 
ing of Qi. 

44 ^°h- Q^ omits. numbers, Q4-F. Q1-Q3, number. 
over. Qi, ore. 45 Hath. Qi, has. noble. Q5a omits. 

46 mighty. Qi, worthy. 48 noiv. Q4-F, omit. 

50 throwes, Qi, threats; modern Edd., throes. 



Scene III.] ^^ilU^ttt iSj 

Thus nobly hath he strugled ; and at length 
Arrived heere my deare husband. 

King. Your deere husband ! 

Call in the captain of the cittadell. 
There you shall keepe your wedding. He provide 55 
A masque shall make your Himen turne his 

saffron 
Into a sullen coat, and sing sad requiems 
To your departing soules ; 
Bloud shall put out your torches, and instead 
Of gaudy flowers about your wanton necks, 60 

An axe shall hang, like a prodigious meteor, 
Ready to crop your loves sweetes. Heare, you 

gods ! 
From this time do I shake all title oflF 
Of father to this woman, this base woman ; 
And what there is of vengeance in a lyon, 65 

Chaft among dogs, or rob'd of his deare yong, 
The same inforc't more terrible, more mighty, 
Expect from me ! 

Jre, Sir, by that little life I have left to 

sweare by, 

52 strugled. Q5-F, strangled. 

54-58 Call in . . . soules. Line-division of D, B. Q2-F print 
call in in line 53 and end the next four lines with keepe, make, coat^ 
soules. 55 There. Qi, where. 

65 -vengeance in. Qi, venge. in. 

66 Chaft, Qi. Q2^Q4, Chast ; Q5-F, Cast. among. Qi, 
Q6, F, amongst. 68 Expect. Qi, looke. 

69 Sir, included in this line in Ql, but printed on a line by 
itself Q2-F. /. Qi, that I. 



288 ^\)iUmt [actv. 

Theres nothing that can stirre me from my selfe. 70 
What I have done, I have done without repent- 
ance, 
For death can be no bug-beare unto me, 
So long as Pharamond is not my headsman. 
Dion \_aside\. Sweet peace upon thy soule, 
thou worthy maid. 
When ere thou dyest ; for this time He excuse 

thee, 75 

Or be thy prologue. 

Philaster. Sir, let me speake next, 

And let my dying words be better with you 
Then my dull living actions. If you ayme 
At the deere life of this sweet innocent, 
Y'are a tyrant and a savage monster, 80 

[That feedes upon the blood you gave a life to ;] 
Your memory shall be as foule behind you 
As you are living ; all your better deeds 
Shall be in water writ, but this in marble ; 
No chronicle shall speake you, though your owne, 85 
But for the shame of men. No monument 
(Though high and big as Pelion) shall be able 
To cover this base murther; make it rich 

70 Theres. ^53, There is. that. Qi omits. 

72 can . . . me. Q i , to me can be no bug bear. 

73 So. Qi, as. 76 Or be. Qi, ore by. 
79 deere. Qi omits. 80 Vare. Qi, you are. 
81 That . . . to, only Qi. 86 the. Qi, a. 

87 Pelion. Q2, Peleon ; Q5a, Pelican. 



Scene IH.] JBljlla^ter 289 

With brasse, with purest gold, and shining 

jasper, 
Like the piramides ; lay on epitaphes, 90 

Such as make great men gods ; my little marble 
(That only cloathes my ashes, not my faults) 
Shall farre outshine it. And for after-issues, 
Think not so madly of the heavenly wisedomes. 
That they will give you more for your mad rage 95 
To cut off, unlesse it be some snake, or something 
Like your selfe, that in his birth shall strangle you. 
Remember my father. King ! There was a fault. 
But I forgive it. Let that sinne perswade you 
To love this lady. If you have a soule, 1°° 

Thinke, save her, and be saved. For my selfe, 
I have so long expected this glad houre. 
So languisht under you, and dayly withered, 
That, by the gods, it is a joy to die ; 
I find a recreation in't. 'o5 

Enter a Messenger. 

Messenger, Wheres the King ? 

King. Heere. 

Mess. Get you to your strength. 

And rescue the Prince Pharamond from danger ; 
Hee's taken prisoner by the citizens. 
Fearing the Lord Philaster. 

Dion ^as'ide^. Oh, brave followers ! 

89 nvith purest. Q I omits. 

104 by the gods. Q4-F, D, heaven knows. a. Q4-F, my. 

106 Wheres. D, Where is. you. Qi omits. 

109 Fearing. Ql, For. folloivers. Qi, fellowes. 



290 ptiilasiter [act v. 

Muteny, my line deere countrimen, muteny! no 
Now, my brave valiant foremen, shew your 

weapons 
In honour of your mistresses ! 

Enter another Messenger, 
2nd Messenger. Arme, arme, arme, arme ! 
King. A thousand divels take [these citi- 
zens ! ] 
Dion \aside'\, A thousand blessings on um ! 115 
2nd Mess, Arme, O King ! the citty is in 
muteny, 
Led by an old gray ruffin, who comes on 
In rescue of the Lord Philaster. 
King. Away to the cittadell ! — 

Exit \_Messenger'] with Jlre[thusa\, 
Phi\Jaster,'] Bellario. 

He see them safe. 
And then cope with these burgers. Let the 

guard 120 

And all the gentlemen give strong attendance. 

Exit King. 
Manent Dion, Clermonty Thrasiline. 
Cle. The citty up ! this was above our wishes. 

Enter another Messenger. Qi omits j D, Enter a second gentle- 
man. 

113 2nd Messenger. Qi, **2Mes" ; Q2-F, "Mess." 
arme. Qi, Q4-F, repeat only three times. 

114 these citizens, Ql. Q2-F, um or 'em. 

115 um. Qi, them. Exit . . . Bellario. Qi omits. 



Scene m.i pijilaster 291 

Dion. I, and the marriage too. By al the 
gods. 
This noble lady has deceiv'd us all. 
A plague upon my self, a thousand plagues, 12s 
For having such unworthy thoughts of her 

deare honour ! 
O, I could beat my selfe ! or do you beat me. 
And He beat you, for we had all one thought. 

Cle, No, no, twill but lose time. 

Dion, You say true. Are your swords 130 
sharpe ? — Well, my deare countrymen What- 
ye-lacks, if you continue and fall not backe 
upon the first broken shinne. He have ye chron- 
icled, and chronicled, and cut and chronicled, 
and all-to-be-praisde and sung in sonnets, and 135 
bawled in new brave ballads, that all tongues 
shall troule you in secula seculorum^ my kind 
can-carriers. 

Thra, What if a toy take um ith heels now, 
and they rurine all away, and cry, the divell 140 
take the hindmost ? 

123 By al the godsy Qi, B. Q2-F, D, by my life. 

124-128 This noble . . . thought. Verse-division of Edd. 1787, 
W, D, B. Qq, F, prose. 

131 What-ye-lacksy Qi. Hyphens added by B, who follows 
Qi, what you lackes. Q3-F, what ye lacke. 

133 shinne. Q I, Skin. have ye. Qi, see you 5 Q3-F, D, 

B, have you. 135 all-to-be-praisde. Hyphens added by Th. 

136 baivledy Heath conj., D, B. Qq, F, bathd. 

npiu brave. Qi, brave new. 138 can-carriers. Qi,Countrimen. 



292 ^l^ihmt [Act V. 

Dion. Then the same divell take the formost 
too, and sowce him for his breakefast. If they 
all prove cowards, my curses flye among them 
and be speeding! May they have murreinsHS 
raigne to keep the gentlemen at home unbound 
in easie freeze ! May the mothes branch their 
velvets, and their silkes only be worne before 
sore eyes ! May their false lights undoe um, and 
discover presses, holes, staines, and oldnesse in 150 
their stuffes, and make them shop-rid ! May they 
keepe whores and horses, and breake ; and live 
mued up with neckes of beefe and turnups ! 
May they have many children, and none like 
the father! May they know no language but 155 
that gibberish they prattle to their parcels, un- 
lesse it bee the goatish Latine they write in their 
bonds, and may they write that false, and lose 
their debts ! 

Enier the King. 

King. Now the vengeance of all the gods 160 
confound them I How they swarme together ! 

143 soivce. Qi, sawce. 

1^^ fiye . . . speeding. Qi, flush amongst um and ill-speed- 
ing. F, amongst for among. 

145 murreins. Q2, murriens ; Ql, injurious. 

146 unbound. Ql omits. 

147 easie. Qi, rafine. . mothes. Qi, moth. 

153 neckes. Q5a, neck. 155 May they. Qi, And. 

157 goatish, Q2, Q3. Ql, gotish ; Q4-F, goarish ; Th, W, 
Gothick. 



Scene m] ^IfthSittV 293 

what a hum they raise ! — Divels choake your 
wilde throats ! — If a man had need to use their 
valours, he must pay a brokage for it, and then 
bring um on, and they will fight like sheepe. Tis 165 
Philaster, none but Philaster, must allay this 
heate. They will not heare me speake, but 
fling durt at me and call me tyrant. Oh, runne, 
deare friend, and bring the Lord Philaster ! 
speake him faire ; call him prince ; do him all 17° 
the courtesie you can ; commend me to him ! 
Oh, my wits, my wits ! Exii Cleremont. 

Dion \aside^ . Oh my brave countrymen ! 
as I live, I will not buy a pinne out of your 
walls for this ; nay, you shall cozen me, and He 175 
thank you, and send you brawne and bacon, and 
soile you every long vacation a brace of foremen, 
that at Michaelmas shall come up fat and kick- 
ing.— 

King. What they will do with this pooreiSo 
prince, the gods know, and I feare. 

Dion \_aside^ . Why, sir, thei'le flea him, and 

163 ivi/de Qi, wide. their. Qi, your. 

164 he. Ql, we. for it. Ql, for't. 

165 um. Qi omits, and. Q5-F omit. tAey. Qi, you. 
I JO faire. Q I, well. 171 courtesie. Qi, courtesies. 
173 countrymen. Qi, citizens. 

177 and soi/e you. Qi omits. e'very. Q2 misprints, ever. 

177-179 vacation . . . kicking. Ql, vocation j and foule 
shall come up fat and in brave liking. 180 tAis. Qi, that. 

181 and. Q I omits. 182 sir. Qi omits. 



294 ^^Mmt [Act V. 

make church-buckets on's skin, to quench re- 
bellion ; then clap a rivet in's sconce, and hang 
him up for [a] signe. 185 

Enter Cleremont with Philaster. 

King. O, worthy sir, forgive me ; do not make 
Your miseries and my faults meete together. 
To bring a greater danger. Be your selfe. 
Still sound amongst diseases. I have wrong'd you ; 
And though I find it last, and beaten to it, 190 

Let first your goodnesse know it. Calme the 

people. 
And be what you were borne to. Take your love, 
And with her my repentance, all my wishes. 
And all my prayers. By the gods, my heart 

speakes this ; 
And if the least fall from me not performed, 195 
May I be strooke with thunder ! 

Philaster. Mighty sir, 

I will not doe your greatnesse so much wrong. 
As not to make your word truth. Free the 

princesse 
And the poore boy, and let me stand the shock 
Of this mad sea-breach, which He either turne aoo 
Or perish with it. 

King. Let your owne word free them. 

183 quench. Q6, F, squench. a^ Qq, F, except Q2. 
igo to it. Qi, to't. l^\ first. Qi, me. it. Qi omits. 
193 a//. Q4-F, and. i()^ speakes this. Q i , speakes all this. 
199 poore. Qi omits. 201 them. Qi, her. 



Scene IV] jB^itetet 295 

Phi, Then thus I take my leave, kissing your 
hand. 
And hanging on your royall word. Be kingly, 
And be not mooved, sir ; I shall bring you peace, 
Or never bring my selfe backe. ^05 

King. [Now] all the gods goe with thee. 

Exeunt omnes. 
[Scene IV. 
A Street.l 
Enter an old Captaine and Citizens with Pharamond. 

Captain, Come, my brave mirmidons, lets 
fall on. 

Let your caps swarm, my boyes, and your nim- 
ble tongs 

Forget your mother gibberish of " what do you 
lacke." 

203 royall. Qi, noble. 204 j'om, Qi. Q2-F, your. 

206 NoiVy Qi, B. Exeunt omnes. Qi omits. 

Scene IV. The text of Q i from this point to the end of the 
play is reprinted at the beginning of the Notes to this play. After 
line 37 it departs entirely from the text of Q2-F. Variants of 
Ql are henceforth recorded at the foot of the page only when 
of importance to the present text. 

1 Cotne^ my bra-ve^ etc. From the first line of the scene until 
the entry of Philaster at line 81, Qq, F, present a mixture of prose 
and verse, much of the latter impossible. The Edd. '78 printed 
the whole as prose ; Th, W, and D reduced it to verse ; and B 
follows D "with some misgiving." The passage was originally 
probably in verse by Fletcher j and D's division is here followed 
with notes of its departure from Q2. 

2 your caps, Ql. Q2-F, our caps. your nimble. Q4'39-F, 
you nimble. 3 mother. Q6, F, mothers. 



296 ^\)ildimt [actv. 

And set your mouthes ope, children, till your 

pallats 
Fall frighted halfe a fathome past the cure 5 

Of bay-salt and grose pepper. And then cry, 
" Philaster, brave Philaster ! " Let Philaster 
Be deeper in request, my ding-dongs, 
My paires of deere indentures, kings of clubs. 
Then your cold water chamblets, or your paint- 
ings 10 
Spitted with copper. Let not your hasty silkes. 
Or your branched cloth of bodkin, or your tish- 

ues, 
Dearely beloved of spiced cake and custards. 
You Robin Hoods, Scarlets, and Johns, tye 

your affections 
In darknesse to your shops. No, dainty duckers, 15 
Up with your three-piled spirits, your wrought 

valors ; 
And let your uncut collers make the King feele 
The measure of your mightinesse. Philaster ! 
Cry, my rose-nobles, cry ! 

JIL Philaster! Philaster! 

Cap. How do you like this, my lord prince ? 20 

4 ope, Qi. Q2-F, Up. 

8 ding-dongs. D, from Ql, ding-a-dings. 

9 kings. Q4-F, King. lo your. Q5, you. 

13 belo'ved. Q3-F, beloo'd. custards. Q4-F, custard. 

14 Tou^ Th, B. Qi-F, D, Your. 
17 collers. Q4'39-F, coller. 



Scene IV] |^t)ila0ter 297 

These are mad boyes, I tell you ; these are things 
That will not strike their top-sailes to a foist, 
And let a man of warre, an argosie, 
Hull and cry cockles. 

Pharamond. Why, you rude slave, do you 

know what you doe ? 25 

Cap, My pretty prince of puppets, we do 

know. 
And give your greatnesse warning that you talke 
No more such bugs-words, or that solder'd 

crowne 
Shall be scratchd with a musket. Deere Prince 

Pippen, 
Downe with your noble bloud ; or, as I live, 30 
He have you codled. — Let him lo[o]se, my 

spirits ; 
Make us a round ring with your bills, my 

Hectors, 
And let me see what this trim man dares do. 
Now, sir, have at you ! here I lye ; 
And with this swashing blow (do you see, 

sweete prince ?) 35 

I could hulke your grace, and hang you up 

crosse-legd, 

28 soldered. Q3-F, soldred. 

33 me. Qi, Q2. Q3-F, D, B, us. 34 lye. Q6, F, it. 

35 sivashing. Q2, washing. see, siveete, Q2. Q3, sweet j 
Q4, QSb, Q6, sweat ; Qsa, swet ; F, swear. 

36 Auike, Qz-Y, Boas. Qi, D, B, hock. 



298 ptiila0ter [act v. 

Like a hare at a poulters, and do this with this 
wiper. 
Pha. You will not see me murderd, wicked 

villaines ? 
1st Citizen. Yes, indeed, will we, sir; we 
have not seen one 
For a great while. 

Cap. He would have weapons, would he ? 4° 

Give him a broadside, my brave boyes, with your 

pikes ; 
Branch mee his skin in flowers like a sattin. 
And betweene every flower a mortal cut. — 
Your royalty shall ravell ! — Jag him, gentlemen ; 
He have him cut to the kell, then downe the 

seames. 45 

Oh for a whip to make him galloone-laces ! 
He have a coach-whip. 

Pha. Oh, spare me, gentlemen ! 

Cap. Hold, hold ; 
The man begins to feare and know himselfe ; 
He shall for this time only be seald up, 50 

With a feather through his nose, that he may 
only 

39-47 Tes . . . coach-ivhip. Q2-F, as prose to nvhip in 1. 46, 
then two short verse-lines ending galloone-laceSy coacb-ivhip. 

40 For, W, D, B. Q2-F, foe. 

48 Hold, hold. Q2-F include in 1. 49. 

5 1-54 iVith . . , king. Q2-Q4, verse-lines ending seCy goingj 
youy king ; Q5-F, three lines ending see^ goings king. 



Scene IV.] p\)ilSimt 299 

See heaven, and thinke whither hee's going. 
Nay, my beyond-sea sir, we will proclaime you : 
You would be king ! 

Thou tender heire apparant to a church-ale, 55 
Thou sleight prince of single scarcenet. 
Thou royall ring-taile, fit to flie at nothing 
But poore mens poultry, and have every boy 
Beate thee from that too with his bread and butter ! 

Pha, Gods keepe me from these hel-hounds ! 

1st Cit. Shalls geld him, captaine ? 60 

Cap. No, you shall spare his dowcets, my 
deare donsels; 
As you respect the ladies, let them flourish: 
The curses of a longing woman kill 
As speedy as a plague, boyes. 

1st Cit, He have a leg, that's certaine. 

2nd Cit. He have an arme. 65 

jrd Cit. He have his nose, and at mine owne 
charge build 
A colledge and clap't upon the gate. 

ph Cit. I'll have his little gut to string a kit 
with. 
For certainely a royall gut will sound like silver. 

Pha. Would they were in thy belly, and I past 7° 
My paine once ! 

52 hee^s. D, B, he is. 53 my. Q6, F, omit. 

56 scarcenet. F (correctly) sarcenet. 60 lit. Q4— F, 2. 

63 kill, F. Q2-Q6, kills. 

63-64 The curses . . . boyes. Q5— F, as one line. 

70-7 1 Would . . . once. Qa-F, one line. 



300 J^ljila^ter (act v. 

^th Cit. Good captaine, let me have his liver 

to feed ferrets. 
Cap. Who will have parcels else ? speake. 
Pha. Good gods, consider me ! I shall be 

tortur'd. 
1st Cit, Captaine, He give you the trimming 
of your two-hand sword, 75 

And let me have his skinne to make false scab- 
bards. 
2nd Cit. He had no homes, sir, had he ? 
Cap. No, sir, hee*s a pollard : 
What wouldst thou do with homes ? 

2nd Cit. O, if he had had, 

I would have made rare hafts and whistles of um ; 80 
But his shin bones, if they be sound, shall serve 
me. 

Enter Philaster. 
AIL Long live Philaster, the brave Prince 

Philaster ! 
Philaster. I thanke you, gentlemen. But why 
are these 
Rude weapons brought abroad, to teach your 

hands 
Uncivil trades ? 

Cap. My royall Rosicleere, 85 

72 Good. Q4, Q5b, God. 

75-81 Captaine . . . serve me. Q2-F, as prose. 

76 tivo. Q2, Q3, 2. Q4-F omit. 

79 had had. Q4-F, had. 81 shin. Q3-Q5, skin. 



Scene IV.] ^\)ihmt 30 1 

We are thy mirmidons, thy guard, thy rorers ; 
And when thy noble body is in durance, 
Thus doe we clap our musty murrians on. 
And trace the streets in terrour. Is it peace. 
Thou Mars of men ? is the King sociable, 90 

And bids thee live ? art thou above thy foemen. 
And free as Phoebus ? speak. If not, this stand 
Of royall bloud shall be abroach, atilt. 
And runne even to the lees of honour. 

Phi. Hold, and be satisfied : I am my selfe, 95 
Free as my thoughts are ; by the gods, I am ! 

Cap. Art thou the dainty darling of the King ? 
Art thou the Hylas to our Hercules ? 
Doe the lords bow, and the regarded scarlets 
Kiss theire gum'd gols, and cry " We are your 

servants"? '°° 

Is the court navigable, and the presence stucke 
With flags of friendship ? If not, we are thy 

castle. 
And this man sleepes. 

Phi. I am what I desire to be, your friend ; 
I am what I was borne to be, your prince. 105 

Pha. Sir, there is some humanity in you ; 
You have a noble soule : forget my name. 
And know my misery ; set me safe aboord 

94 y4nd runne. Q2-F, B, include in 1. 93. 
10 1 stucke. Q5-F, struck. 
104 / desire^ F. Q2-Q6, 1 doe desire. 107 my. Q5a, thy. 



302 p|)ilas?ter [actv. 

From these wild canibals, and, as I live, 

He quit this land forever. There is nothing, — no 

Perpetual prisonment, cold, hunger, sicknesse 

Of all sorts, all dangers, and all together. 

The worst company of the worst men, madnes, 

age, 
To be as many creatures as a woman, 
And do as all they do, nay, to despaire, — 115 

But I would rather make it a new nature. 
And live with all these, then endure one howre 
Amongst these wild dogges. 

Phi. I do pitty you. — Friends, discharge your 

feares ; 
Deliver me the prince. He warrant you lao 

I shall be old enough to finde my safety. 

jrd Cit. Good sir, take heede he does not 

hurt you ; 
Hee*s a fierce man, I can tell you, sir. 

Cap, Prince, by your leave. He have a sur- 

single. 
And make you like a hawke. He strives. 125 

Phi. Away, away, there is no danger in him : 
Alas, he had rather sleepe to shake his fit off! 

111 sicknesse. Q2-Q6 have comma after sicknesse. 

112 all dangers. Q2-Q6, of all dangers. all together. Q/2.— 
Q6, altogether. 

117 these. Q4-F, D, B, those. 123 Hee\. D, He is. 

125 make, Q2-Q6. F, male ; Tb, D, B, mail. 
He strives. Q3-Q4, Qsb-F, He stirs. 



Scene IV.] ^^^HnHttt 3^3 

Looke you, friends, how gently he leads ! Upon 

my word, 
Hee's tame enough, he need[s] no further 

watching. 
Good my friends, goe to your houses, '3° 

And by me have your pardons and my love ; 
And know there shall be nothing in my power 
You may deserve, but you shall have your wishes : 
To give you more thankes, were to flatter you. 
Countinue still your love; and, for an earnest, 135 
Drinke this. \_Gives money.~\ 

All. Long maist thou live, brave prince, brave 

prince, brave prince ! 

Exit Philaster and Pharamond. 
Cap, Go thy wayes, thou art the king of 

curtesie ! 
Fall off againe, my sweete youths. Come, 
And every man trace to his house againe, 14° 

And hang his pewter up ; then to the taverne, 
And bring your wives in muffes. We will have 

musicke ; 
And the red grape shall make us dance and rise, 

boyes. Exeunt. 

128 you. Q6, your. 129 needs. Q2-F, need. 

130-131 Good . . . love. Verse-division of Edd. '78, W, 
D, B 5 Qq, F, as prose. 

138 Go thy ivayes. Q4-F omit. 

139-143 Fall . . . boyes. Verse-division of W, D, B. Qq, 
F, four lines ending many to^ have^ boyes. 



304 jatiilasfter [act v. 

[Scene V. 

An Apartment in the Palace.")^ 

Enter Kingy Arethusa, Galateay Megra, Cleremont, 
Diony ThrasilinCy BellariOy and Attendance. 

King. Is it appeas'd ? 

Dion. Sir, all is quiet as this dead of night, 
As peaceable as sleepe. My Lord Philaster 
Brings on the prince himselfe. 

King. Kind gentleman ! 

I will not breake the least word I have given 5 
In promise to him : I have heap'd a world 
Of griefe upon his head, which yet I hope 
To wash away. 

Enter Philaster and Pharamond. 

Cleremont. My lord is come. 

King. My sonne ! 

Blest be the time that I have leave to call 
Such vertue mine ! Now thou art in mine armes, 10 
Me thinkes I have a salve unto my brest 
For all the stings that dwell there. Streames of 

griefe 
That I have wrong'd thee, and as much of joy 
That I repent it, issue from mine eyes : 
Let them appease thee. Take thy right ; take 

her ; 15 

2 this. Th, W, B, the. 

4 gentlemariy Th, W, D, B. Qq, F, gentlemen. 



Scene V] ^^ihSittt 305 

She is thy right too ; and forget to urge 
My vexed soule with that I did before. 

Phi/aster. Sir, it is blotted from my memory, 
Past and forgotten. — For you, prince of Spain, 
Whom I have thus redeem'd, you have full 

leave *o 

To make an honourable voyage home. 
And if you would goe furnish'd to your realme 
With fair provision, I do see a lady, 
Me thinkes, would gladly beare you company : 
How like you this peece ? 

Megra. Sir, he likes it well, 25 

For he hath tryed it, and hath found it worth 
His princely liking. We were tane a-bed; 
I know your meaning. I am not the first 
That nature taught to seeke a fellow forth ; 
Can shame remain perpetually in me, 30 

And not in others ? or have princes salves 
To cure ill names, that meaner people want ? 

Phu What meane you ? 

Meg. You must get another ship, 

To beare the princesse and her boy together. 

Dion. How now ! 35 

Meg. Others tooke me, and I tooke her and 
him 



18 hh. F, is it. 26 hath found. Q/^-Y oxtixX. hath. 

28 knonv. Q5a, knew. 

34 beare. Q6, F, clear. her. Q3-F, the. 



37 sometime. Q6, F, sometimes. 

39 ivinde. Q4'34, wine. 

41 This earth. Q2 prints as a separate line. 

47 '^re. Q3 omits ; Q4-F, be. 

48 your. F, hour. heated. Q3-F, hated. 
59 sadly. B (qy. ), hardly. 



40 



306 JB^itoter [act v. 

At that all women may be tane sometime : 
Ship us all foure, my lord j we can indure 
Weather and winde alike. 

King. Cleere thou thy selfe, or know not me 
for father. 

Arethusa, This earth, how false it is ! What 
means is left for me 
To cleere my self? It lies in your beleefe : 
My lords, beleeve me ; and let all things else 
Struggle together to dishonour me. 

Bellario. O, stop your eares, great King, that 
I may speake 45 

As freedome would ! Then I will call this lady 
As base as are her actions : heare me, sir ; 
Beleeve your heated bloud when it rebels 
Against your reason, sooner then this lady. 

Meg, By this good light, he beares it han- 
somely. 50 

Phi, This lady ! I will sooner trust the wind 
With feathers, or the troubled sea with pearle, 
Then her with any thing. Beleeve her not. 
Why, thinke you, if I did beleeve her words, 
I would outlive em .? Honour cannot take 55 



Scene v.] |0^ila0ter 30? 

Revenge on you ; then what were to be knowne 
But death ? 

King. Forget her, sir, since all is knit 
Betweene us. But I must request of you 
One favour, and will sadly be denyed. 

Phi, Command, what ere it be. 

King. Sweare to be true 60 

To what you promise. 

Phi. By the powers above, 

Let it not be the death of her or him, 
And it is granted ! 

King. Beare away that boy 

To torture : I will have her cleerd or buried. 

Phi. O, let me call my word backe, worthy sir! 65 
Aske something else ; bury my life and right 
In one poore grave ; but doe not take away 
My life and fame at once. 

King. Away with him ! It stands irrevocable. 

Phi. Turne all your eyes on me ! Heere 
stands a man, 70 

The falsest and the basest of this world. 
Set swords against this breast, some honest man. 
For I have livd till I am pittied ! 
My former deedes were hateful ; but this last 
Is pittifull, for I unwillingly 75 

Have given the deere preserver of my life 

60-6 1 Siveare : . . promise. Q2-F as one line. 

63 tkat. F, the. 65 word. Q4-F, words. 

74 were. Q6, F, are. 



3o8 pt)ila0ter [act v. 

Unto his torture. Is it in the power 

Of flesh and bloud to carry this, and live ? 

Offers to kill himself e. 

Are. Dear sir, be patient yet ! Oh, stay that 
hand! 

King. Sirs, strip that boy. 

Dion. Come, sir j your tender flesh 80 

"Will try your constancie. 

Bell. O, kill me, gentlemen ! 

Dion. No. — Helpe, sirs. 

Bell. Will you torture me. 

King. Hast there ; 

Why stay you ? 

Bell. Then I shall not breake my vow. 

You know, just gods, though I discover all. 

King. Hows that ? will he confesse ? 

Dion. Sir, so he sayes. 85 

King. Speake then. 

Bell. Great King, if you command 

This lord to talke with me alone, my tongue, 
Urg'd by my heart, shall utter all the thoughts 
My youth hath knowne; and stranger things 

then these 
You heare not often. 

King. Walk aside with him. 90 

\_Dion and Be liar io walk apart. '\ 

79 Oh. Q4-F, or. 80 Sirs. Q5a, sir. 

80-8 1 Come . . . constancy. Verse-division of W, D. Qq, F, 
one line. 8 i try. Q2, tire. 

82-83 Hast . . . you. Q2-F, as one line. 



Scene V] P^Umt 309 

Dion. Why speak'st thou not ? 

Bell. Know you this face, my lord ? 

Dion. No. 

Be/L Have you not scene it, nor the like .? 

Dion. Yes, I have seen the like, but readily 
I know not where. 

Beil. I have bin often told 

In court of one Euphrasia, a lady, 95 

And daughter to you ; betwixt whom and me 
(They that would flatter my bad face would 

sweare) 
There was such strange resemblance, that we 

two 
Could not be knowne asunder, drest alike. 

Dion. By heaven, and so there is ! 

Be/L For her fair sake, 100 

Who now doth spend the spring time of her life 
In holy pilgrimage, move to the King, 
That I may scape this torture. 

Dion. But thou speak'st 

As like Euphrasia as thou dost looke. 
How came it to thy knowledge that she lives 105 
In pilgrimage ? 

Bel/. I know it not, my lord ; 

But I have heard it, and doe scarce beleeve it. 

Dion. Oh, my shame ! is't possible ? Draw 
neere, 

106 it. Q5a omits. io8 is't. Th, W, D, is it. 



310 |Bl)ilas?ter [act v. 

That I may gaze upon thee. Art thou she, 

Or else her murderer? where wert thou born ? no 

Bell. In Siracusa. 

Dion. What's thy name ? 

Bell. Euphrasia. 

Dion. O, tis just, tis she ! 
Now I doe know thee. Oh, that thou hadst 

dyed. 
And I had never seene thee nor my shame ! 
How shall I owne thee ? shall this tongue of mine 115 
Ere call thee daughter more ? 

Bell. Would I had died indeed ! I wish it too : 
And so I must have done by vow, ere publishd 
What I have told, but that there was no meanes 
To hide it longer. Yet I joy in this, ^^o 

The princesse is all cleere. 

King. What, have you done ? 

Dion. Alls discovered. 

Phi. Why then hold you me? 

All is discovered ! Pray you, let me go. 

He offers to stab himself e. 

King. Stay him. 

Jre. What is discovered ? 

Dion. Why, my shame. 

It is a woman : let her speake the rest. 125 

118 /. Q2, Q3, omit. 122 Alls. Q6, F, D, B, AU is. 
123 All . . . go. Q4'39-F assign this and consequently the 
marginal stage-direction to " Dion." 



Scene v.] ^^hiSttt 3II 

Phi. How ? that againe ! 

Dion, It is a woman. 

Phi. Blest be you powers that favour inno- 
cence ! 

King, Lay hold upon that lady. 

^Megra is seize d.'\ 

Phi. It is a woman, sir ! — Harke, gentle- 
men, 
It is a woman ! — Arethusa, take 13° 

My soule into thy brest, that would be gone 
With joy. It is a woman ! Thou art faire, 
And vertuous still to ages, in despight 
Of malice. 

King. Speake you, where lies his shame ? 

Bell. I am his daughter. 135 

Phi. The gods are just. 

Dion. I dare accuse none ; but, before you two, 
The vertue of our age, I bend my knee 
For mercy. \_Kneels.'\ 

Phi. [raising him'] . Take it freely ; for I 
know. 
Though what thou didst were undiscreetely 

done, 140 

Twas meant well. 

Are. And for me, 

I have a power to pardon sins, as oft 
As any man has power to wrong me. 

134 Of malice. Qq, F, include in preceding line. 



312 p^itotec (actv. 

Cle. Noble and worthy ! 

Phi. But, Bellario, 

(For I must call thee still so,) tell me why 145 

Thou didst conceale thy sex. It was a fault, 
A fault, Bellario, though thy other deeds 
Of truth outwaigh'd it. All these jealousies 
Had flowne to nothing, if thou hadst discovered 
What now we know. 

Bell. My father oft would speakeiso 

Your worth and vertue ; and, as I did grow 
More and more apprehensive, I did thirst 
To see the man so [pjrais'd. But yet all this 
Was but a mayden longing, to be lost 
As soon as found ; till, sitting in my window, 155 
Printing my thoughts in lawne, I saw a god, 
I thought, (but it was you,) enter our gates : 
My bloud flue out and backe againe, as fast 
As I had puft it forth and suck't it in 
Like breath : then was I call'd away in hast 160 
To enterteine you. Never was a man, 
Heav'd from a sheep-coat to a scepter, rais'd 
So high in thoughts as I : you left a kisse 
Upon these lippes then, which I meane to keepe 
From you for ever : I did heare you talke, 165 

Farre above singing. After you were gone, 
I grew acquainted with my heart, and searched 

150 oft ivould. Q5-F, would oft. 

153 prais'd. Edd. 17H. Qq, F, rais'd. 



Scene v.] ^IjllaSftCt 313 

What stirM it so : alas, I found it love ! 

Yet farre from lust ; for, could I but have liv'd 

In presence of you, I had had my end. 170 

For this I did delude my noble father 

With a feign'd pilgrimage, and drest my selfe 

In habit of a boy ; and, for I knew 

My birth no match for you, I was past hope 

Of having you ; and understanding well 17s 

That when I made discovery of my sex 

I could not stay with you, I made a vow, 

By all the most religious things a maid 

Could call together, never to be knowne. 

Whilst there was hope to hide me from mens eyes, 180 

For other than I seem'd, that I might ever 

Abide with you. Then sate I by the fount, 

Where first you took me up. 

King, Search out a match 

Within our kingdome, where and when thou 

wilt. 
And I will pay thy dowry ; and thy selfe 185 

Wilt well deserve him. 

Bell. Never, sir, will I 

Marry ; it is a thing within my vow. 
But, if I may have leave to serve the princesse, 
To see the vertues of her lord and her, 
I shall have hope to live. 

Jre. I, Philaster, 19° 

169 but have. Q6, F, have but. 184 thounvilt. Q5a omits. 



314 l^liilasfter iactv. 

Cannot be jealous, though you had a lady 
Drest like a page to serve you ; nor will I 
Suspect her living here. — Come, live with me; 
Live free as I doe. She that loves my lord. 
Curst be the wife that hates her ! 19S 

Phi. I grieve such vertue should be laid in 
earth 
Without an heire. — Hear me, my royall father : 
Wrong not the freedome of our soules so much. 
To thinke to take revenge of that base woman ; 
Her malice cannot hurt us. Set her free aoo 

As she was borne, saving from shame and sinne. 

King. Set her at liberty. — But leave the 
court ; 
This is no place for such. — You, Pharamond, 
Shall have free passage, and a conduct home 
Worthy so great a prince. When you come 

there, 205 

Remember twas your faults that lost you her^ 
And not my purpos'd will. 

Pharamond. I do confess. 

Renowned sir. 

King. Last, joyne your hands in one. En- 
joy, Philaster, 
This kingdome, which is yours, and, after me, 210 
What ever I call mine. My blessing on you ! 
All happy houres be at your marriage joyes, 

196 vertue. F, virtues. 200 her. Q5a, us. 



Scene v.] ^\)Mmt 3^5 

That you may grow your selves over all lands, 
And live to see your plenteous branches spring 
"Wherever there is sunne ! Let princes learn 215 
By this to rule the passions of their blood ; 
For what heaven wills can never be withstood. 

Exeunt omnes, 

213 your sel'ves. Q5a, your self. 

214 li've. Q2-Q4, like. 

FINIS, 



Bott0 to p^iWttv 

For the meaning of single ivords see the Glossary. 

Date. In the Scourge of Folly by John Davies of Hereford, en- 
tered S. R. Oct. 8, 1610, occurs an epigram addressed to Fletcher, 
the first words of which, " Love lies ableeding," refer to the second 
title of Philaster. The play must, then, have been written and acted 
before Oct. 8, 1610 ; and the date generally suggested for its first 
presentation, 1 608, seems a plausible conjecture. 

Stage History. Philaster was first acted by the King's Men at 
either the Globe or the Blackfriars theatre, and while Shakespeare 
was still writing for that company. It was acted at court 16 12-13, 
and was popular until the closing of the theatres in 1642. A droll, 
the Club Men, based on Act v. Scene 4, was performed at the 
Red Bull during the suppression of the theatres ; and the play was 
revived immediately after the Restoration. Pepys saw it in 166 1 
and again in 1668, when Hart was playing Philaster, and Nell 
Gwynne, Bellario. It was also played in Lincolns-Inn-Fields when 
the women acted alone, perhaps in 1664. In 1695, Philaster, 
" Revis'd and the Two last Acts new Written," by Elkanah Settle, 
was produced at the Theatre Royal j and another alteration appeared 
in the works of George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, 17 14, en- 
titled the Restauration. As Dyce remarks, it was probably not 
written by the Duke, and never acted. In 171 1, when Philaster 
was revived at Drury Lane, it had not been acted there for eleven 
years j and after 171 5 it was apparently not acted until 1763, when 
it was revived with considerable alterations by the elder Colman. 
Powell made his first appearance at this performance, and the play 
scored a success. Colman's revision was printed in his Works, 
1777, and was acted off and on until the end of the century. 

Resemblances to Cymbeline. The resemblances between 
Philaster and Cymbeline have been frequently noted and discussed.' 
Some parallel passages may be instanced : the first sixty lines of 
each play; Arethusa's speech, iii, 2, 162-166, and Imogen's, 
in, 4, 60-66 ; Leonatus' soliloquy, 11, 5, 8ff, and Philaster's, iii, 
2, 105-128 ; Philaster's speech after he has been hurt by the 

I Especially in Leonhardt's Ueher Bexiehungen von . . . Philaster, 
Hamlet, und Cymbeline, Anglia, vol. 8, and The Influence of Beaumont 
and Fletcher on Shakspere, by the present editor, chap. 9. 



jl^otesf to JBI^itotei: 317 

country fellow, iv, 3, 105-110, and lachimo's after he has been 
overcome by Leonatus, v, 2, 1-6 ; also the quibbles on strange and 
stranger, Philaster^ i, I, 93-97, and Cymbeline, 11, i. The resem- 
blances, however, are not so much in parallel passages as in situations 
and characters. The relations and experiences of Leonatus and 
Imogen are similar to those of Philaster and Arethusa ; while as a 
page and in the country scenes Imogen resembles Bellario. In each 
play the king's attempt to marry the heiress of the crown to an 
unworthy braggart results in the estrangement of the true lovers and 
the slander of the heroine, but tragedy is eventually averted by the 
confession of the slanderer and a general forgiveness. In both plays, 
an idyllic element is contrasted with the tragic and centres about a 
maiden disguised as a page who suffers privations and who constantly 
appeals to our sympathies through the utter devotion and ideal 
tenderness of her character. The two kings are similar in character 
and actions and Cloten and Pharamond are both brutish braggarts, and 
each serves to supply the comic element of the play. So noticeable 
are these similarities and the general resemblance of the plays in 
material and construction that it seems likely that one play owes 
something to the other. The probability of direct indebtedness is 
increased by the fact that the two plays were acted within a year or 
two of each other and by the same theatrical company. It is not 
possible to determine with certainty which play was the earlier, and 
the question of which author was the borrower rests on considera- 
tions too complex to be treated here. To the present editor, it 
seems probable that Philaster was the earlier, that in its essential 
traits it was an innovation, a new type of play, and that its success 
had an important influence on Shakespeare's choice and treatment 
of material in Cymbeline. 

Actus I . . . Actus Quintus. Here follow the opening of 
Act I, Scene i (corresponding to 11. i— 121 of the text) and the last 
scene of Act v, as they appear in gi. They are printed line for 
line and literatim. 

Actus I. Scoen. I. 

Enter at seuerall doores Lord Lyon, Trasiline, yo//ow« i/w, 
Clerimon meetes them. 

Trasiline. 
Well ore tane my Lord. 



3i8 jpotrs? to ptiilasfter 

Lyon. Noble friend welcome, and see who encoun- 
ters us, honourable good Clerimon. 

Cle. My good Lord Lyon, most happily met wor- 
thy Trasi/ine, 

Come gallants, what's the newes, 
the season affoords us variety, 
the nouilsts of our time runnes on heapes, 
to glut their itching eares with airie sounds, 
trotting to'th burse ; and in the Temple walke 
with greater zeale to heare a nouall lye, 
than pyous Anthum tho chanted by Cherubins. 

Traus. True Sir : 
and holds set counsels, to vent their braine sicke opinions 
with presagements what all states shall designe. 

Cle. Thats as their intelligence serues. 

Lyon. And that shall seme as long as inuention lastes, 
there dreams they relate, as spoke from Oracles, 
or if the gods should hold a synod, and make them their secritaries, 
they will diuine and prophecie too : but come and speake your thoughts 
of the intended marriage with the Spanish Prince, 
He is come you see, and brauely entertainde. 

Tras. Hee is so, but not married yet. 

Cle. But like to be, and shall have in dowry with the Princesse 
this Kingdom e of Cycele. 

Leon. Soft and faire, there is more will forbid the baines, then 
say amen to the marriage : though the King vsurped the Kingdome 
during the non-age of the Prince Phylaster^ hee must not thinke to 
bereaue him of it quite ; hee is now come to yeares to claime the 
Crowne. 

Tra. And lose his head i' the asking. 

Leon. A diadem worn by a headlesse King wold be wonderous, 
Phylaster is too weake in power. 

Cle. He hath many friends. 

Leon. And few helpers. 

Tra. The people loue him. 

Leon. I grant it, that the King knowes too well, 
And makis this Contract to make his faction strong : 
Whats a giddy-headed multitude. 
That's not Disciplinde nor trainde up in Armes, 



iliote0to pt)Ua0trr 319 

To be trusted vnto ? No, he that will 

Bandy for a Monarchic, must prouide 

Brave marshall troopes with resolution armde. 

To stand the shock of bloudy doubtful warre, 

Nor danted though disastrous Fate doth frowne, 

And spit all spightfuU fury in their face : 

Defying horror in her ugliest forme, 

And growes more valiant, the more danger threats j 

Or let leane famine her affliction send, 

Whose pining plagues a second hel doth bring, 

Thei'le hold their courage in her height of spleene, 

Till valour win plenty to supply them. 

What thinke ye, would yer feast-hunting Citizens 

Indure this ? 

Tra. No sir, a faire march a mile out of town that their wiues may 
bring them their dinners, is the hottest seruice that they are trained 
vp to. 

Cle, I could wish their experience answered their loues, 
Then should the much too much wrongd Phylaster, 
Possesse his right in spight of Don and the diuell. 

Tra. My heart is with your wishes. 

Leon. And so is mine. 
And so should all that loues their true borne Prince, 
Then let vs ioyne our Forces with our mindes. 
In whats our power to right this wronged Lord, 
And watch aduantage as best may fit the time 
To stir the murmuring people vp, 
Who is already possest with his wrongs, 
And easily would in rebellion rise. 
Which full well the King doth both know and feare, 
But first our seruice wee'le proffer to the Prince, 
And set our projects as he accepts of vs ; 

But husht, the King is comming. sound musicke ivithin. 

Enter the King, Pharamont, tAe Princesse, the Lady Gallatea, the 
Lady Megra, a Gentletvomany ivith Lords attending, the King 
takes his seate. 

King. Faire Prince, 
Since heauens great guider furthers our intents, 



320 0ott& to ^^Mmt 

And brought you with safety here to arriue 

Within our Kingdome and Court of Cycele, 

We bid you most welcome, Princely Pharamontj 

And that our Kingly bounty shall confirme, 

Euen whilst the Heauens hold so propitious aspect 

Wee'le crowne your wisht desires (with our owne) 

Lend me your hand sweet Prince, hereby enioy 

A full fruition of your best contents, 

The interest I hold I doe possesse you with, 

Onely a fathers care, and prayers retaine. 

That heauen may heape on blessings, take her Prince, 

Actus V. Scoen V. 

Enter an olde Captaine, ivith a creiv of Citizens, leading Phar- 
AMONT prisoner. 

Cap. Come my braue Mermedons, fal on, let your caps swarm, 
& your nimble tongues forget your gibrish, of what you lack, and 
set your mouthes ope' children, till your pallats fall frighted halfe a 
fathom past the cure of baysalt & grosse pepper ; and then crie PAy- 
/aster, braue Phylaster. Let Phylaster be deep in request, my 
ding-a-dings, my paire of deare Indentures : King of clubs, the 
your cut -water-chamlets, and your painting : let not your hasty 
silkes deerly belouers of Custards & Cheescakes, or your branch 
cloth of bodkins, or your tyflFenies, your robbin-hood scarlet and 
lohns, tie your affections in durance to your shops, my dainty duck- 
ers, vp with your three pil'd spirits, that rightvalourous, and let your 
accute colours make the King to feele the measure of your might- 
inesse ; Phylaster, cry, myrose nobles, cry. 

Omnes. Phylaster, Phylaster. 

Cap. How doe you like this, my Lord prisoner ? 
These are mad boyes I can tell you. 
These bee things that will not strike top-sayle to a Foyst. 
And let a Man of warre, an Argosea, 
Stoope to carry coales. 

Phar. Why, you damn'd slaues, doe you know who I am ? 

Cap. Yes, my pretie Prince of puppits, we do know, and giue 
you gentle warning, you talke no more such bugs words, left that 



iliotesf to pi)ila0ter 321 

sodden Crowne should be scracht with a musket ; deare Prince pip- 
pin, rie haue you codled, let him loose my spirits, and make a ring 
with your bils my hearts : Now let mee see what this braue man 
dares doe : note sir, haue at you with this washing blow, here I lie, 
doe you huffe sweete Prince ? I could hock your grace, and hang 
you crosse leg'd like a Hare at a Poulters stall j and do thus. 
Phar. Gentlemen, honest Gentlemen — 

1 SovL. A speakes treason Captaine, shal's knock him 
downe ? 

Cap. Hold, I say. 

2 SovL. Good Captaine let me haue one mal at's mazard, I 
feele my stomacke strangely prouoked to bee at his Spanish pot- 
nowle, shal's kill him ? 

Omnes. I, kill him, kill him. 
Cap. Againe I say hold. 

3 SovL. O how ranke he lookes, sweete Captaine let's geld him, 
and send his dowsets for a dish to the Burdello. 

4 SovL. No, let's rather sell them to some woman Chymist, 
that extractions, shee might draw an excellent prouocatiue oyle from 
vseth ^ them, that might be very vsefull. 

Cap. You see, my scuruy Don, how precious you are in es- 
teem amongst vs, had you not beene better kept at home, I thinke 
you had : must you needes come amongst vs, to haue your saffron 
hide taw'd as wee intend it : My Don, Phylaster must suffer death 
to satisfie your melancholly spleene, he must my Don, he mustj 
but we your Physitians, hold it fit that you bieede for it : Come my 
robusticks, my braue regiment of rattle makers, let's cala common 
cornuted counsell, and like graue Senators, beare vp our brancht 
crests, in sitting vpon the seuerall tortures we shall put him to, and 
with as little sense as may be, put your wils in execution. 

Some Cries. Burne him, burne him. 

Others. Hang him, hang him. Enter Phylaster. 

Cap. No, rather let's carbinade his cods-head, and cut him to 
collops : shall I begin ? 

Phi. Stay your furies my louing Countrimen. 

Omnes. Phylaster is come, Phylaster^ Phylaster. 

I vseth ^ i. e., useth to make, should evidently come before extractions 
in the preceding line. 



322 jl^ote^ to |Bl^tla0trr 

Cap. My porcupines of spite, make roome I say, that I may 
salute my braue Prince : and is Prince Phylaster at liberty ? 

Phi. I am, most louing countrimen. 

Cap. Then giue me thy Princely goll, which thus I kisse, to 
whom I croucli and bow ; But see my royall sparke, this head- 
strong swarme that follow me humming like a master Bee, haue I 
led forth their Hiues, and being on wing, and in our heady flight, 
haue seazed him shall suffer for thy wrongs. 

Omnes. I, I, let's kill him, kill him. 

Phi. But heare me, Countrimen. 

Cap. Heare the Prince, I say, heare Phylaster. 

Omnes. I, I, heare the Prince, heare the Prince. 

Phi. My comming is to giue you thanks, my deere Countri- 
men, whose powerfull sway hath curb'd the prossecuting fury of 
my foes. 

Omnes. We will curb vm, we will curb vm. 

Phi. I finde you will, 
But if my intrest in your loues be such. 
As the world takes notice of. Let me craue 
You would deliuer Pharamont to my hand, 

And from me accept this Giues vm his purse. 

Testimonie of my loue. 

Which is but a pittance of those ample thankes, 
Which shall redowne with showred courtesies. 

Cap. Take him to thee braue Prince, and we thy bounty 
thankefully accept, and will drinke thy health, thy perpetuall health 
my Prince, whilst memory lasts amongst vs, we are thy Mermidons, 
my Achillis : we are those will follow thee, and in thy seruice will 
scowre our rusty murins and our billbow-blades, most noble Phylas- 
ter^ we will : Come my rowtists let's retyer till occasion calls vs to 
attend the noble Phylaster. 

Omnes. Phylaster y Phylaster , Phylaster. 

Exit Captaine, a72d Citizens. 

Phar. Worthy sir, I owe you a life. 
For but your selfe theres nought could haue preuail'd. 

Phi, Tis the least of seruice that I owe the King, 
Who was carefull to preserue ye. 



0ott& CO jatiilasfter 323 

Enter Leon, Trasiline, and Clerimon. 

Tra. I euer thought the boy was honest. 

Leon. Well, tis a braue boy Gentlemen, 

Cle. Yet you'ld not beleeue this. 

Leon. A plague on my forwardnesse, what a villaine was I, to 
wrong vm so ; a mischiefe on my muddy braines, was I mad ? 

Tra. a little frantick in your rash attempt, but that was your 
love to Phylaster^ sir. 

Leon. A pox on such loue, haue you any hope my counti- 
nance will ere serue me to looke on them ? 

Cle. O very well Sir. 

Leon. Very ill Sir, vds death, I could beate out my braines, or 
hang my selfe in reuenge. 

Cle. There would be little gotten by it, ene keepe you as ye are. 

Leon. An excellent boy, Gentlemen beleeue it, harke the King 
is comming. Cornets sounds. 

Enter the Kingy Princesse, Gallatea, Megra, Bellario, a Gen- 
tleivoman, and other attendants. 

K. No newes of his returne, 
Will not this rable multitude be appeas'd } 
I feare their outrage, lest it should extend 
With dangering of Pharamonts life. 

Enter Philaster ivith Pharamont. 

Leon. See Sir, Phylaster is return' d. 

Phi. Royall Sir, 
Receiue into your bosome your desired peace, 
Those discontented mutineaeres be appeasde, 
And this fortaigne Prince in safety. 

K. How happie I am in thee Phylaster ? 
Whose excellent vertues begets a world of loue, 
I am indebted to thee for a Kingdome. 
I here surrender vp all Soueraignetie. 

Raigne peacefully with thy espoused Bride, Delivers his Croivne 
Ashume my Son to take what is thy due. to him. 

Pha. How Sir, yer son, what am I then, your Daughter you 
gave to me. 

Kin. But heauen hath made asignement vnto him, 



324 jpotesf to |ai)ila0ter 

And brought your contract to anullity : 

Sir, your entertainment hath beene most faire, 

Had not your hell-bred lust dride vp the spring, 

From whence flow'd forth those fauours that you found: 

I am glad to see you safe, let this suffice, 

Your selfe hath crost your selfe. 

Leon. They are married sir. 

Phar. How married? I hope your highnesse will not vse me so, 
I came not to be disgraced, and returne alone. 

King. I cannot helpe it sir. 

Leon. To returne alone, you neede not sir, 
Here is one will beare you company. 
You know this Ladies proofe, if you 
Fail'd not in the say-taging.^ 

Me. I hold your scoffes in vildest base contempt, 
Or is there said or done, ought I repent. 
But can retort euen to your grinning teeths. 
Your worst of spights, tho Princesse lofty steps 
May not be tract, yet may they tread awry, 
That boy there 

Bel. If to me ye speake Lady, 
I must tell you, youhaue lost your selfe 
In your too much forwardnesse, and hath forgot 
Both modesty and truth, with what impudence 
You haue throwne most damnable aspertions 
On that noble Princesse and my selfe : witnesse the world ; 
Beholde me sir. Kneeles to Leon and discouers her haire. 

Leon. I should know this face ; my daughter 

Bel. The same sir. 

Prin. How, our sometime Page, Bellario^ turn'd woman ? 

Bel. Madame, the cause induc't me to transforme my selfe. 
Proceeded from a respectiue modest 
Affection I bare to my my Lord, 
The Prince Phylaster, to do him seruice, 
As farre from any laciuious thought. 
As that Lady is farre from go odnesse, 
And if my true intents may be beleeued, 

I say-taging. Misprint for say-taking, taking the assay. 



il^ote0 to ^\)ih&ttv 325 

And from your Highnesse Madame, pardon finde, 
You haue the truth. 

Prin. I doe beleeue thee, Bellario I shall call thee still. 

Phi. The faithfullest seruant that euer gaue attendance. 

Leon. Now Lady lust, what say you to'th boy now j 
Doe you hang the head, do ye, shame would steale 
Into your face, if ye had grace to entertaine it, 
Do ye slinke away ? Exit Megra hiding her face. 

King. Giue present order she be banisht the Court, 
And straightly confinde till our further 
Pleasure is knowne. 

Phar. Heres such an age of transformation, that I doe not know 
how to trust my selfe. Tie get me gone to : Sir, the disparage- 
ment you haue done, must be cald in question. I haue power to 
right my selfe, and will. Exit Pharamont. 

King. We feare ye not Sir. 

Phi. Let a strong conuoy guard him through the Kingdome, 
With him, let's part with all our cares and feare, 
And Crowne with ioy our happy loues successe. 

King. Which to make more full, Lady Galiatea 
Let honour'd Ckrimont acceptance finde 
In your chast thoughts. 

Phi. Tis my sute too. 

Prin. Such royall spokes-men must not be deni'd. 

Gal. Nor shall not, Madame. 

King. Then thus I ioyne your hands. 

Gal. Our hearts were knit before. They kisse. 

Phi. But tis you Lady, must make all compleat. 
And giues a full perod to content, 
Let your loues cordiall againe reuiue, 
The drooping spirits of noble Trasiline. 
What saies Lord Leon to it ? 

Leon. Marry my Lord I say, I know she once lou'd him. 
At least made shew she did. 
But since tis my Lord Phylasters desire, 
I'le make a surrender of all the right 
A father has in her ; here take her Sir, 
With all my heart, and heauen give you ioy. 



326 jpotrfi to l^tiitotrr 

King. Then let vs in these nuptuall feastes to hold, 
Heauen hath decreed, and Fate stands vncontrold. 

FINIS. 



159. Enter Galatea, a Lady, and Megra. The 

transposition of Lady and Megra in the entry and in the speeches 
which follow is rendered necessary by Dion's description of '* the 
first," *' the second," and '* the last " of the entering ladies, and 
by our subsequent knowledge of Megra's character. This Lady 
seems to be the '* old Wanton Lady, or Croane " in the Dramatis 
Personae of Q3. There is no coiresponding character in the Dra- 
matis Personaeof Q\ ; the " waiting Gentlewoman " of Qi corre- 
sponding to ** Another Lady attending the Princesse " of Q3. 

162, III. discourse and knowledge. "Where dis- 
course is coupled with a word expressive of a faculty of the mind — 
as thought^ reason^ judgment^ etc. — it is to be considered as merely 
expletive ; chameleon-like taking the colour of the word to which 
it is attached." Daniel (B). 

168, 215. lookes like a tooth-drawer. Ray in his 

Pro'verbsi^. 65, ed. 1768) defines this as looking " very thin and 
meagre. ' ' 

169, 238-39. him That made the world his. Alex- 
ander the Great. 

170, 252. a patterne of succession. A pattern to suc- 
ceeding kings. 

170,258. aprinceof wax. Perfect, as if modelled in wax. 
Cf. the Nurse's description of Paris, " a man of wax " in Romeo 
and Juliety i, iii, 76. Galatea's reply, A dog it is, refers to a cant 
phrase, *' a dog of wax," found in Jonson's Ta/e of a Tub, 11, ii, and 
in Sir John Oldcastle, 11, ii, and the Miseries of Enforced Mar- 
riage, I, ii. The phrase has not been explained j laere Galatea 
intends to say that Pharamond is a nonentity. 

170, 263. and now nought but hopes and feares. 
And, to supply my wants, now nought but hopes and fears. There 
is, perhaps, some corruption here. 

I7I»^75- true tenant. Theobald read, true recreant} Mitford 



il^ote^ to gijitotet 327 

suggested, true tyrant j Dyce noted "truant" of (^l, which had 
also been conjectured by Seward j but Dyce retained tenant, inter- 
preting, "if he [shaking like a true tenant — like one who has 
only temporary possession] ginje not back his crown." Daniel (B) 
adopts "truant" of gi, and adds that "the context might sug- 
gest to a bold emendator — ' like one in a true tertian,^ or ' like as 
in a true tertian.'' " Tenant seems no more objectionable than any 
of the other readings. 

I73> 3°6. hot at hand. Cf Julius Casar, IV, ii, 23. 

174, 323. I. This alteration of the text adopted by all editors 
since Weber, was due to a conjecture by Mason. The meaning is : 
" you would be courtiers to me if I could be induced not to hazard 
the fortunes of your families by offending the king. ' ' 

1 75) 337- Male-dragons. The old editions all capitalize 
and hyphen. Male, i. e. masculme. 

I93j 3- the reverend mother. The mother of the maids, 
the woman in charge of the attendants of the princess. 

195, 24-25. Thiswyer. Wire was much used in women's 
head-dresses. 

195, 29. no hand behind it. " No acknowledgement of 
indebtedness." B. 

197, 62. white mony. "A cant term for silver specie." D. 

197, 66-67. camphier constitutions. " Camphor was 
anciently classed among those articles of the materia medica which 
were cold in an eminent degree." W. 

205, 35. Thou disclaimst in me. Thou disclaim'st any- 
right in me to your service. 

210, 42. had been better have. A common form of 
expression. Daniel instances Othello, in, iii, 362. The reading 
of Qi, had been better, is also not uncommon. 

218, 187. nine worthies. Joshua, Judas Maccabaeus, 
David, Alexander the Great, Hector, Julius Caesar, Charlemagne, 
Godfrey of Bouillon, and King Arthur. 

221,21. Against their nature. " Contrary to the nature 
of the discordant multitude." Mason. 

226, 115. divells. Dyce thinks this may be a misprint caught 
from the preceding line, and notes that in the Restauration 
" fiends " is substituted, and in Settle's alteration, " furies." 



328 il^otes? to J^ljitotrr 

244,109. For bursting-. For fear of bursting. 

244, 114. like scorpions. Bullen quotes the Theater of 
Insects^ 1658, scorpions " being laid to their own wounds they made, 
they cure them, as is generally known." 

249, 27. sicke mans salve. An allusion to the Skke 
Man'' s Sal-vcj a work by Thomas Becon, first printed in 1561, and 
frequently alluded to by the dramatists. Another work, A Sal've 
for a Sickman, by William Perkins, was published in 1595. 

249, 29. the helpe of an almanacke. Almanacs con- 
tained directions for the proper times for blood-letting. 

250, 38-39. that spoiles her coate. "The allusion is 
to mullets, or stars, introduced into coats of arms, to distinguish the 
younger branches of a family, which of course denote inferiority." 
Mason. 

251, 12. hee forsooke the say, for paying ten shil- 
lings. After the deer had been hunted down, it was customary 
for the keeper to offer his knife to the man of first distinction in 
the company in order that he might rip up the belly and thus take 
"assay" of the fatness and quality of the game. Pharamond de- 
clined the offer in order to escape the fee of ten shillings. For, 
for fear of, as 244, 109. 

252, 18. an old Sir Tristram. This hero of romance 
was an especial patron of the chase. 

253, Enter Philaster. Here, as Daniel notes, a new scene 
should be marked j the division is that of Weber, followed by all 
subsequent editors. 

253, 40. Oh, that, etc. "This speech is beautifully imi- 
tated from the opening of Juvenal's Sixth Satire." Dyce. 

264, 54. Sirs. "Sir" was a term of address to women as 
well as men. It is used again in v, ii, 39. 

278, 129. I was SO. " I was, in a figurative sense, disguised i 
the word is still applied in vulgar language to those who are dis- 
ordered or deformed by drink." Dyce. 

283, 39. Your life no price compar'd to mine. 

Mason's emendation seems required for the sense : Philaster sup- 
poses that Bellario and Arethusa have changed places with him ; 
the wrong has come to him from them ; and their lives are of no 
value compared with his } what would they then have done ? Dyce 



0ott& to ^\)Mmt 329 

noted that Mason's change had been already made in the alteration 
of the play called the Restaur ation. 

285, 30. the firver of the Sirian starre. The heat 
supposedly caused by the dog-star Sirius. Cf. the Maid'' s Tragedy ^ 
note, 86, 55. 

287, 56. saffron. Hymen appeared in saffron-colored robes 
in the masques. 

289, 109. Fearing. Fearing for, 

292, 148-49. silkes only be worne before sore 

eyes. Daniel quotes, ** green sarcenet flaps for a sore eye." 
Troilus and Cressida^ v, i, 36. 

292, 149. false lights. Dyce quotes an illustrative passage 
from Middleton's Michaelmas Term, i, i, where the woollen-draper 
Quomodo addresses an assistant spirit named Falselight : 

Go, make my coarse commodities look sleek; 

With subtle art beguile the honest eye ; 

Be near to my trap-window, cunning Falselight. 

292, 157. goatish Latine. Dyce quotes from Hermanni 
Vulgaria : * * The ranke savour of gotes is applied to them that 
will not come out of theyr iiaudy [i. e. foul, barbarous] latyn.'''' 

293, 174-175. out of your walls. Outside of your shops. 
296, 8. my ding-dongs. My hearties, my darlings. 
296, 9. My paires of deere indentures, kings of 

clubs. Allusions to the indentures by which the apprentices were 
bound, and to clubs, their favorite weapons. 

296, 10. cold water chamblets. Camlets, rich fabrics 
of wool or silk with a wavy, watery appearance. 

296,10-11. paintings. Spitted with copper. Painted 
or colored cloths interstitched with copper. 

296, II. hasty silks. Silks and velvets were stiffened with 
gum to make them look shiny, but in consequence the stuff wore 
out quickly. See note, 3OI, 99-100. 

296, 12. branch 'd cloth of bodkin. Embroidered cloth 
of gold and silk. 

296, 14. You Robin Hoods, Scarlets, and Johns. 

The captain applies to his followers the names of the heroes of the 
Robin Hood ballads. 

296, 16. your three-piled spirits, your wrought 



330 il^ote^ to IBljilaster 

valors. Three-piled was applied to the best velvet, and so meta- 
phorically to the shop-keepers. Valors is used with a quibble on 
*' velure " or "valure," velvet. 

296, 17. your uncut COllers. A quibble on collar and 
choler. 

296, 19. my rose-nobles. Another pun. 

297, 22-24. That will not strike . . . and cry 

cockles. That will not yield to an inferior vessel, and let a man 
of war lie inactive and in base service. Foist is a small vessel, used, 
perhaps, as Weber remarks, with application to Pharamond and 
allusion to the Lord Mayor's gorgeous galley-foist. To cry cockles 
here seems to mean, ** to engage in base traffic " 5 and to be syn- 
onymous with " to carry coales " of Qi. Dyce, however, notes 
that according to Grose ( Class. Diet, of the Vulgar Tongue^ cry 
cockles means "to be hanged." If this is the meaning here, the 
captain mixes his metaphors and refers to the interrupted execution 
of Philaster. 

297, 28. solder'd crowne. Solder'd head } but why solder'' d 
is not clear. Qi has sodden. 

297, 29. musket. A quibble on the double meaning (l) a 
male sparrowhawk, (2) the weapon. 

297, 36. hulke. Boas notes that ^^ hulk, to take entrails out 
of, is preferable to hock, hough, or hamstring, which could scarcely 
be used of a hare." 

298, 46. Oh for a whip to make him galloone- 

laces ! O for a whip to tear him to ribbons ! The captain's rant 
is more or less consistent in its metaphors. Having cut, embroid- 
ered, and ravelled Pharamond, he would whip him until he was 
mere ribbons of lace. 

298, 50-51. seald up, With a feather through his 

nose. Seeled (misspelt in the text) is a term in falconry. When 
a hawk was first taken, a thread or small feather was run through 
its eyelids, so that it could see little or nothing. Putting the feather 
through the nose seems to have been a humorous amendment of 
the captain's. 

299, 55- Thou tender heire apparant to a church- 
ale. In view of the character attributed to these convivial occa- 
sions, this is equivalent to calling Pharamond a bastard, and a base 
one at that. 



jl^otes? to pijilas^ter 331 

299, 56. prince of single scarcenet. Daniel quotes " A 

king of shreds and patches." Hamlet^ iii, iv, 102. 

299, 66-67. lie . . . gate. An allusion to Brasenose Col- 
lege, Oxford. 

300, 85. royall Rosicleere. Rosicleer and his brother Don- 
zel de Phebo (mentioned in 1. 92), Icnight of the sun, are heroes 
in the Spanish romance Don%el de Phebo, translated into English, 
1583-1 602, under the title of the Mirrour of Knighthood, etc. The 
Mirrour was a popular book and is frequently referred to by the early 
dramatists. It is referred to in the Scornful Lady, iv, i, and is 
constantly scoffed at and burlesqued in the Knight of the Burning 
Pestle. 

301, 99-100. the regarded scarlets Kiss theire 

gum'd gols. The respected officers of state, clothed in scarlet, 
kiss their perfumed hands. Golls is a vulgar term for hands, and 
gummed seems to refer to the application of gum for perfume 
or bleaching. Daniel thinks gummed is used in the sense of cor- 
rupted, and quotes from the Woman Hater, iv, ii, ** She 's a piece 
of dainty stuff, my rogue 5 smooth and soft as new satin ; she was 
never gummed yet, boy, nor fretted," where the metaphorical use 
of the word is quite different from its use in the present passage. 
Cf. / Henry IV, 11, ii, " I have removed Falstaff's horse, and he 
frets like a gummed velvet ' ' ; and hasty silksy v, iv, 11, and 
note for 296, 11. 

302, 124-25. He have a sursingle and make you 
like a hawke. I '11 have a girth or band and train you like a 
hawk. Make was a technical term in falconry meaning *' to train, 
to make obedient." '* Mail " (F, male) was also a technical term 
meaning '*to pinion, to wrap in a cloth," but there seems no rea- 
son for its adoption here by modern editors. 

303, 142. your wives in muffes. One of the earliest 
allusions in literature to muffs, then just coming into use. 

307* 59* "''^ill sadly be denyed. Will be very sorry to be 
denied. 
310, no. Or else her murderer. "It was the received 

opinion in some barbarous countries that the murderer was to in- 
herit the qualities and shape of the person he destroyed." Mason. 



■Biblfogtapi^t 



The place of publication is London unless otherivise indicated. 
The abbreviations to the left of the titles are those used in the 
Textual Notes. 

I. TEXTS 

A. COLLECTIVE EDITIONS OF BEAUMONT AND 
FLETCHER 

1647. Comedies and Tragedies Written by Francis 
Beaumont and John Fletcher, Gentlemen. Never printed 
before, And now published by the authours original! copies . . . 
for Humphrey Robinson . . . and for Humphrey Moseley. 
[This, the first Folio, contained neither the Maid'' s Tragedy nor 
Philaster, but all the plays, 34, and one Masque, not previously 
printed except the ff^i/d Goose Chase.~\ 

1679. (F. ) Fifty Comedies and Tragedies. Written by 
Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher, Gentlemen. All in one 
volume. Published by the authors original copies, the songs to each 
play being added ... for John Martyn, Henry Herringman, 
Richard Marriot. [This, the second Folio, contains all the plays 
of the first Folio, and eighteen others.] 

171 1. 8°. The Works of Beaumont and Fletcher in 
Seven Volumes. Adorned with cuts ... for Jacob Tonson. 

1750. 8°. (Th. ) The Works OF Beaumont AND Fletcher. 
Collated with all the former editions and corrected. With notes 
critical and explanatory. By the late Mr. Theobald, Mr. Seward 
. . . and Mr. Sympson. 10 vols. 

1778. 8°. The Dramatick Works of Beaumont and 
Fletcher . . . adorned with 54 original engravings. [Ed. by 
George Colman.] 10 vols. 

181 1. 8°. The Dramatic Works of Ben Jonson, and 



llBibliograpti^ 333 

Beaumont and Fletcher, . . . The latter from the text and 
with the notes of G. Colman. 4 vols. 

1 8 12. 8°. (W.) The Works of Beaumont and Fletcher 
... by Henry Weber, Esq. Edinburgh. 14 vols. 

1839. 8°. The Works of Beaumont and Fletcher. With 
an introduction by George Darley. 2 vols. [Text is Weber's, 
1812.] 

1843-6. (D. ) 8°. The Works of Beaumont and Fletcher 
... by the Rev. Alexander Dyce. 1 1 vols. 

1852. 8°. The Works of Beaumont and Fletcher . . . 
by the Rev. Alexander Dyce. Boston. 2 vols. 

1866. 8°. The Works of Beaumont and Fletcher. With 
an introduction by George Darley. A new edition, Routledge 
and Sons. 2 vols. 

1904-. (B.) The Works OF Francis Beaumont AND John 
Fletcher. Variorum edition. [Ed. A. H. Bullen.] Vol. i con- 
tains : The Maid's Tragedy, P/iilaster, — edited by P. A. 
Daniel ; A King and No King, the Scornful Lady, the Custom 
of the Country, — edited by R. Warwick Bond. 

B. SELECTIONS 

1768. 12°. Select Plays of Beaumont and Fletcher. 
Glasgow, 2 vols. 

1808. 8°. Beaumont's und Fletcher's Dramatische 
Werke herausgegeben von K. L. Kannegiesser. Berlin, 2 vols. 

1808, 1 813, etc Specimens of English Dramatic Poets, 
who lived about the time of Shakespeare : with notes. By Charles 
Lamb. [Contains selections from the Maid's Tragedy, Philaster, 
and other plays of Folios.] 

1811. 8°. The Modern British Drama. [Ed. by Sir Wal- 
ter Scott.] 5 vols. [This contains the Maid' s Tragedy, Philaster, 
and seven other plays from Folios.] 

1819. Specimens of The British Poets. . . , Thomas 
Campbell, 7 vols. [Contains selections from the M.ufs Tragedy, 
Philaster, and other plays from Folios.] 

1834. Beauties of Beaumont and Fletcher. By H. Guil- 
ford. Birmingham, 



334 ^ibliograpl)^ 

1855* Beaumont and Fletcher; or, The finest scenes, 
lyrics, and other beauties ... to the exclusion of whatever is 
morally objectionable . . . with opinions of distinguished critics, 
notes . . . and a general introductory preface. By Leigh Hunt. 

1865. CoNTEMPORAiNS DE Shakespeare. Beaumont et 
Fletcher, traduits par Ernest Lafond. Paris. [This contains four 
plays, but neither the Maid's Tragedy nor P/ii/aster.^ 

1887. The Best Plays of the Old Dramatists. Beau- 
mont and Fletcher. Edited by J. St. Loe Strachey. 2 vols. 
[Mermaid Series.) [Vol. i contains the Maid'' s Tragedy, Philas- 
ter, and three other plays.] 

1887. The Plays of Beaumont and Fletcher (Selected). 
Introduction by J. S. Fletcher. ( The Canterbury Poets. ) 

C. SEPARATE PLAYS 

THE maid's tragedy 

1619. (Qi-) The Maides Tragedy. As it hath beene 
diuers times Acted at the Blacke-friers by the Kings Maiesties Ser- 
uants. London Printed for Francis Constable and are to be sold 
at the white Lyon ouer against the great North doore of Pauls 
church. [Bodleian, Dyce, Boston Public Library.] 

1622. (Q2.) The Maids Tragedie. As it hath beene 
diuers times Acted at the Black-Friers by the Kings Maiesties Ser- 
uants. Newly perused, augmented, and inlarged. This second im- 
pression. London. Printed for Francis Constable, and are to be 
sold at the White Lion in Pauls Church-yard. [Brit. Mus. 644. 
d. 6, Bodl., Dyce, B. P. L.] 

1630. (Q3.) The Maids Tragedie. Written by Francis 
Beaumont and John Fletcher, Gentlemen. The Third Impression. 
Reuised and Refined. ... for Richard Hawkins. [B. M. 
1346. a. 7, Bodl., Dyce, B. P. L.] 

1638. (S4-) • • • '^"^ Maides Tragedie . . . The 
fourth Impression ... for Henry Shepherd. [B. M. 644. d. 7, 
Bodl., Dyce, University Library, Cambridge, Eng., Trinity Col- 
lege, Cambridge, Eng.] 

164I. (25-) The Maids Tragedie . . . The fifth Im- 
pression ... for William Leake. [B. M. 644. d. 8, B. P. L.] 



llBibliograpt)^ 335 

1650. (Q6.) The Maids Tragedy . . . The sixth Im- 
pression. Revised and Corrected exactly by the Original ... for 
William Leake. [B. M. 644. d. 9, B. P. L.] 

[These six quartos all have a wood-cut on the title-page.] 

1 66 1. (Q7-) The Maids Tragedy, Sixth Impression. 
[In place of the publisher's name this has only] Printed in the Year 
1661. [B. M. 644. d. 10, Bodl., Dyce, Harv. Coll. Lib.] 

1686. 4°. The Maids Tragedy. As it hath been acted at 
the Theatre Royal. 

1704. 4°. The Maids Tragedy. 
1717. 4°. The Maid's Tragedy. 

1881-84. The Maid's Tragedy. No. 18 of The English 
Library J ^Zurich. 

PHILASTER 

1620. (Qi-) Phylaster. Or, Love lyes a Bleeding. Acted 
at the Globe by his Maiesties Seruants. Written by Francis Bay- 
mont and John Fletcher Gent. Printed at London for Thomas 
Walkley, and are to be sold at his shop at the Eagle and Child. 
[Wood-cut on title-page. B. M. (C. 34. f. 31,) Bodl., Dyce.] 

1622. (Q2.) Philaster . . . The Second Impression, cor- 
rected and amended. [B. M. (C. 34. c. 4.) Bodl., Dyce.] 

1628. (Q3-) Philaster . . . The Third Impression . . . 
for Richard Hawkins. [B. M. 1346. a. 6. Bodl., Dyce.] 

1634. (Q4, '34') Philaster . . . The Fourth Impression. 
[B. M. 644. d. 19. Dyce B. P. L.] 

1639. (Q4, '39-) Philaster . . . The Fourth Impression 
. . . for William Leake. [B. M. 644. d. 20. Bodl., T. C. C, 
B. P. L.] 

1652. (Ssa. ) Philaster . . . The Fifth Impression. [Or- 
nament, two rows of small fleur-de-lis. B. P. L., H. C. L.] 

1652. (Q5b.) Philaster . . . The Fifth Impression. [But 
distinct from Q5a, and having for ornament a crown. On back 
of title-page, it has a list of books sold by Leake. B. P. L.] 

1663 ?(Q6.) Philaster . . . The Sixth Impression. [Not 
dated, but list of books " lately come forth " fixes the date as 
1663. B. M. 643. g. 23. Bodl., B. P. L.] 

1687. 4°- Philaster. 



33^ llBibliograplii? 

1717. 4°. Philaster. 

1870. Philaster. In the JVorks of the British DramatistSy 
etc. By J. S. Keltic. 

1892. Philaster. Expurgated. In the Best Elizabethan 
Plays. Ed. by W. R. Thayer. Boston. 

1898. Philaster. Ed. Frederick S. Boas. The Temple Dra- 
matists, 



D. ADAPTATIONS, ALTERATIONS, AND TRANS- 
LATIONS 

THE maid's tragedy 

1672. The Testy Lord. In the fVits, or, Sport upon Sport. 
[A droll based on Calianax scene in the Maid''s Tragedy.~\ 

1690. The Second Part of Mr. Waller's Poems. This 
contains a new fifth act of the Maid"" s Tragedy. 

1690. The Maid's Tragedy [i. e. its fifth act] altered. 
With some other pieces. By Edmund Waller, Esq. [A different 
version from the preceding.] 

1746. La Pucelle. Tragedie en un acte par Fletcher. Le 
Theatre Anglais. Vol. 4. 

1765. Die Braut, eine tragodie. Translated into German 
prose by H. W. von Gerstenberg. Kopenhagen und Leipzig. 

[ ? ] The Bridal. A tragedy in five acts, adapted for repre- 
sentation (with three original scenes, written by James Sheridan 
Knowles, Esq. ) from The Maid's Tragedy of Beaumont and 
Fletcher. As performed by Mr. Macready. New York. Wil- 
liam Taylor & Co. [Not dated.] 

[The Bridal is also in vol. 6 of the Modern Standard Drama. 
New York. Samuel French. Not dated.] 

PHILASTER 

1695. Philaster. Revised and the two last acts new written 
by E. Settle. 

1714. The Restauration : or. Right will take place. By 
George Villiers, late Duke of Buckingham. [In the fVorks of 



llBibliograpt)^ 337 

George Fll/iers ; also see editions, 1754, 1775- -A" alteration of 
Philaster.] 

1763. Philaster. With alterations [and prologue by G. 
Colman.] 

1764. Philaster. With alterations [by G. Colman]. Second 
edition. 

1777. Philaster. A tragedy. With alterations. [In Dramatic 
fVorks of G. Colman, vol. 3.] 

1780. Philaster. Altered ... [by G. Colman.] 

1 79 1. Philaster. A tragedy. As altered . . . Adapted for 
theatrical representation. [In BelTs British Theatre, vol. 18.] 

[?] Philaster. Oder Die Liebe Blutet. Deutsch von Adolf 
Seubert. n. d. Leipzig. Uni'versal-Bibliothek, band 1169. 



II. WORKS BIOGRAPHICAL AND 
CRITICAL 

Besides monographs and essays de-voted especially to Philaster 
and the Maid's Tragedy, this list .includes such general ivorks 
on the drama and on Beaumont and Fletcher as are likely to prove 
useful to the student or the general reader. See also the memoirs and 
critical matter in the editions of the texts included in the preceding 
lists. 

1664. A Short Discourse on the English Stage, in Lonje" s 
Kingdom, a pastoral tragi-comedy, Richard Flecknoe. Reprinted 
in the English Drama and Stage under the Tudor and Stuart 
Princes, jjjj-1664, edited by W. C. Hazlitt, Roxburghe library, 
1869. pp. 275-281. 

1668. An Essay of Dramatic Poesy, John Dryden. Works 
of Dryden, ed. Scott-Saintsbury, xv, 282 flf. 

1668. A Defence of an Essay on Dramatic Poesy, John 
Dryden. Works of Dryden, ed. Scott-Saintsbury, 11, 290. 

1678. The Tragedies of the Last Age, consider' d and ex- 
amin'd, by the practice of the ancients, and by the common 
sense of all ages : in a letter to Fleetwood Shepherd, Esq., 



33^ llBibliograp^^ 

Thomas Rymer. [Contains criticisms on the MaiJ^s Tragedy, RoUoj 
and A King and No King.'\ Second Edition, 1692. 

1679. The Grounds of Criticism in Tragedy (An Answer 
to Rymer) , John Dryden, Works of Dryden, ed. Scott-Saintsbury, 
VI, 260-283. 

169I. An Account of the English Dramatic Poets, 
Gerard Langbaine. Reedited as The Lives of the Poets, by 
Charles Gildon, 1698} The Companion to the Playhouse, 
by David Baker, 1764; Biographia Dramatica, by Isaac Reed, 
1782, and by Stephen Jones, 18 12. 

1753. The Lives of the Poets of Great Britain and 
Ireland, Theophilus Cibber and Robert Shiels. i, 154-164. 

1797. Comments on the Plays of Beaumont and Fletcher, 
J. Monck Mason. 

181 1. Uber Dramatische Kunst und Literatur, a. W. 
Schlegel. Vol. 2, Part 2, pp. 288-306. Heidelberg. Translated 
by John Black as Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature, 
Philadelphia, 1833. 

1 814. Explanations and Emendations of Some Passages in 
the Text of Shakespeare and of Beaumont and Fletcher, 
Martinus Scriblerus \j)seud.~\. Edinburgh. 

1 82 1. Lectures on the Dramatic Literature of the Age 
of Elizabeth, William Hazlitt. pp. 86-101. 

1 83 1. Beitrage zu einer genauern Vergleichung Shaks- 
peare's mit Beaumont und Fletcher, Franz Horn. Shaks- 
peare's Schauspiele, v, 34-72. Leipzig. 

1832. Some Account of the English Stage, from the 
Restoration to 1830, J. Genest. 10 vols. [For numerous notes 
on the plays, see under their names in the index, vol. i.] 

1833. A Letter on Shakespeare's Authorship of The Two 
Noble Kinsmen ; a drama commonly assigned to John 
Fletcher, William Spaulding, Edinburgh. A new edition, with 
A life of the author by John Hill Burton, Neiv Shakspere 
Society, 1876. 

1836. Notes on Beaumont and Fletcher, Samuel Taylor 
Coleridge. The Literary Remains of S. T. Coleridge, collected and 
edited by H. N. Coleridge, 11, 289-322. Also in the Complete 
JTorks ofS. T. Coleridge, edited by Prof. Shedd; New York, 1853; 



llBibliograpt)^ 339 

IV, 199-220. And in Lectures and Notes on Shakspere and 
other English Poets, by S. T. Coleridge ; now first collected by 
T. Ashe, 1883. pp. 395-407} 425-451. [See the Index for 
references to various comments on Beaumont and Fletcher from 
Tahle Talk and elsewhere.] 

1837. Lives of the Most Eminent Literary and Scientific 
Men of Great Britain, Dramatists, Robert Bell and S. A. 
Dunham, i, 203-251. 

1839. Introduction to the Literature of Europe in the 
15TH, I 6th, and 17TH Centuries, Henry Hallam. in, 337— 
351. [Various later editions.] 

1840. Review of Darley's Edition, *' Adversaria, no. in, 
Peter-see-mee, " Fraser''s Maga%ine, August, 1840,. xxii, 189— 
192. Also reviewed in American fVhig Re'vieiv, ^uly and August, 
1846, IV, 68-80, 1 31-146. 

1 84 1. Beaumont and Fletcher and their Contempora- 
ries, [William Spaulding,] Edinburgh Re-vieiv, April, lxxiii, 209- 
241. 

1846. Memoirs of the Principal Actors in the plays of 
Shakespeare, J. P. CoUier, Shakespeare Society Publications. 

1847. Review of Dyce's Edition, Edinburgh Re'vieiv, July, 
Lxxxvi, 42-67 ; Eclectic Magazine, October j LittelPs Living 
Age,:^\v, 385. 

1847. " Salmacis and Hermaphroditus," not by Francis 
Beaumont: the edition of 1602, Dramaticus \j)seud.'\. The 
Shakespeare Society'' s Papers, in, 94-126. 

1847. The Shares of Shakspere and Fletcher in The 
Two Noble Kinsmen, Samuel Hickson, Westminster and Foreign 
Siuarterly Re'vieiv, April, xlvii, 59-88. Reprinted, with a con- 
firmation by F. G. Fleay, in New Shakspere Society'' s Transactions, 
1874. 

1848. Dyce's and Darley's Editions, Quarterly Re'vieiv, 
Sept. 1848, Lxxxiii, 377-418. 

1850. Beaumont and Fletcher, William B. Donne, Eraser'' s 
Magazine, March, xli, 321-332. Reprinted in Essays on the 
Drama and on Popular Amusements 5 Second edition, 1863, 
pp. 34-66. 

1850. On the Several Shares of Shakspere and Fletcher 



340 515tbliosrap]^^ 

IN THE Play of Hinry VIII, James Spedding, the Gentleman's 
Magazine, Aug. and Oct. 1850, new series, xxxiv, 11 5-123, 
381-382. Also in Neiv Shakspere Society'' s Transactions, 1874. 

1856. Cursory Notes on Various Passages in the Text of 
Beaumont and Fletcher, as edited by the Rev. Alexander 
Dyce, etc., John Mittbrd. 

1856. Studien iJBER DAS Englische Theater, V, Fletcher, 
Moritz Rapp, Archio) fiir das Studium der neuern Sprachen und 
Liter aturen, xx, I— 37. 

1858. Cyclopedia of English Literature, William and 
Robert Chambers, 1858, i, 218-225. Revised Edition, 1901, i, 
468-478. 

1864. CONTEMPORAINS ET SuCCESSEURS DE ShAKESPEARE, 

Alfred Mezieres. 2d Edition, 11, 21-211. Paris. 

1864. Shakespeare and Jonson. Dramatic versus Wit- 
CoMBATS. Auxiliary forces: Beaumont and Fletcher, Mar- 
ston. Decker, Chapman, and Webster. Unsigned. 

1869. The Literature of the Age of Elizabeth, E. P. 
Whipple, pp. 157-177. Boston. 

1 87 1. On the Comic Writers of England, in, Beaumont 
and Fletcher. Charles Cowden Clarke, Gentleman' s Magazine, 
June. Entirely New Series, vii, 27-48. 

1874. Fletcher and Beaumont, Unsigned, Temple Bar, 
Nov., xLii, 460-471. 

1874. On Metrical Tests as applied to Dramatic Po- 
etry, F. G. Fleay. Part ii. Fletcher, Beaumont, Massinger, 
WITH illustrative PASSAGES AND A DISCUSSION. Neiv Shakspere 
Society's Transactions, pp. 51-84. Also in Shakspere Manual, 
1876, pp. 151-174- 

1875. A History of English Dramatic Literature to the 
Death of 2"^^^ Anne, A. W. Ward, 2 vols., 11, 155-248. 
Revised ed., 3 vols., 1899, 11, 643-763. 

1875. A Note on Cervantes and Beaumont and Fletcher, 
C. J., Eraser's Magazine, May, xci, 592-597. 

1876. Beaumont and Fletcher, Unsigned, National gar- 
ter ly Re-vieiv, Sept., XXXIII, 302-330. 

1879. History of English Dramatic Poetry, etc. , J. P. 
Collier. 3 vols. 



llBibliograpl)^ 341 

1881-1887. Beaumont, Fletcher, and Massinger, Robert 
Boyle, Englische Studien, — v, 74-965 vii, 66-87; viii, 39-61 j 
IX, 209-239; X, 380-412. See vols, v and vii for Philaster and 
the AlaiJ's Tragedy. 

1883. Francis Beaumont: A Critical Study, G. C. 
Macaulay. Reviewed in the Athenaum, Feb. 2, 1884 ; the 
Academy, Dec. 22, 1883 ; the Spectator, Aug. 2, 1884. 

1884. Chapters in the History of English Literature 
FROM 1 509 to the Close of the Elizabethan Period, Ellen 
Crofts, ch. 9, pp. 258-283. 

1885. Francis Beaumont, A. B. Grosart, Dictionary of 
National Biography. 

l885« On the Chronology of the Plays of Fletcher and 
Massinger, F. G. Fleay, Englische Studien, 1885-6, ix, 12-35. 
[The substance of this paper is embodied in the author's Chronicle 
of the English Drama, 1 89 1, q. 'v.'\ 

1885- Uber Beziehungen von Beaumont und Fletcher's 
Philaster, or Love Lies A-Bleeding, zu Shakespeare's 
Hamlet und Cymbeline, B. Leonhardt, Anglia, viii, 424- 

447- 

1886. Beaumont, Fletcher, and Massinger, Robert Boyle, 
pp. 579-628. [A summary of papers under the same title in 
Englische Studieny 1881-87.] 

1886. Geschichte des Dramas, J. L. Klein. 13 vols. 
English drama, vols. 12, 13. Leipsic. 

1886. Some Ethical Aspects of Later Elizabethan 
Tragedy, J. Rose Colby. Dissertation, pp. 23-37, University of 
Michigan, Ann Arbor. 

1887. Beaumont and Fletcher, Algernon Charles Swin- 
burne, Encyclopedia Britannica, 9th ed., iii, 469—474. 

1887. A History of Elizabethan Literature, George 
Saintsbury, pp. 254-266. 

1889. John Fletcher, A. H. BuUen, Dictionary of National 
Biography. 

1890. A Bibliography of Beaumont and Fletcher, Alfred 
C. Potter, Bibliographical Contributions, Library of Harvard Uni- 
versity, no. 39. Cambridge, U. S. A. 

1890-92. The Works of Beaumont and Fletcher, E. F. 



342 llBibliograpl^^ 

Oliphant, Englische Studien : xiv, 53-94; xv, 321-360; xvi, 
180-200. See vol. XIV for Philaster and the Maid^s Tragedy. 

1891. A Biographical Chronicle of the English Drama, 
F. G. Fleay. 2 vols. Beaumont and Fletcher, i, 164-229. 

1892. The Old Dramatists, James Russell Lowell. Boston. 

1893. Die Englischen Dramatiker vor, neben, und nach, 
Shakespeare, A. F. von Schack. Stuttgart. 

1893. Spanische guELLEN der Dramatischen Litteratur, 
BESONDERS Englands zu Shakespeares Zeit, Lco Bahlsen, Zeit- 
schrift fur -vergleichende Litter aturgesc hie hte. Neue Folge, vi, pp. 
1 51-159. Berlin-Weimar. 

1895. ^uellen-Studien zuden Dramen BenJonson's, John 
Marston's, und Beaumont's und Fletcher's, Emil Koeppel, 
MUnchener Beitrage. Leipzig. 

1896. Die Text-varianten von Beaumont's und Fletch- 
er's Philaster, etc., B. heonhzxAt, Anglia, xix, xx, xxiii, xxiv, 
XXVI. Philaster^ xix, 34-74. Maid's Tragedy, xxiii, 14-66. 

1896. The Old Dramatists, Conjectural Readings, K. 
Deighton. Beaumont and Fletcher, pp. 30-88. 

1 90 1. The Influence of Beaumont and Fletcher on 
Shakspere, a. H. Thorndike. Worcester, Mass. 

1903. A History of English Poetry, W. G. Courthope. 
4 vols, published, 1895-1903. iv, 304-348. 

1904. The Temper of the Seventeenth Century in 
English Literature, Barrett Wendell. New York. 

1905. Spanish Influence on English Literature, Martin 
A. Hume, p. 276 ff. 

1905. John Webster, E. E. Stoll. [Contains a discussion of 
the influence of Beaumont and Fletcher on Webster. ] Cambridge, 
U. S. A. 



dBilojSjsart 



abusde, deceived. P. iii, i, 
no. 

answerable, suitable, con- 
venient, P. IV, ii, 36. 

apprehensive, capable of 
understanding. P. v, v, 152. 

beaten [beaten rocke) , overlaid 

or inlaid with precious metal. 

M. T. I, ii, 216. 
bill, a kind of pike, used by 

w^atchmen. P. v, iv, 32. 
blankes, blank-verses. P. 11, 

ii, 98. 
bodkin, baudkin, a rich stuff 

of gold and silk. P. v, iv, 12. 
bowes {boughs). M. T. I, ii, 

194. 
branch, to form patterns. P. 

V, iv, 12, 42. 
brave, finely dressed. P. 11, 

iv, 28, etc. 
bravery, ostentation. P. i, i, 

275- 

bugs, bugbears, objects of ter- 
ror. P. I, i, 245. 

bugs - words, swaggering 
words. P. V, iv, 28. 

canker, a wormy disease, a 
corroding evil. M. T. iv, i, 
85 ; V, i, 76. 

cantharides, the dried Span- 



ish fly, used as a drug. P. 
IV, i, 48. 

carduus, a genus of herbs re- 
sembling the thistle and for- 
merly esteemed as a remedy for 
all kinds of diseases. P. 11, 
ii, 42. 

carriage, baggage. P. iv, i, 
45 ; behavior. P. 11, iv, 
121, etc 

chamblets, camlets, rich fa- 
brics of wool or silk with a 
wavy, watered appearance. P. 
v, iv, 10. 

church-ale, a convivial meet- 
ing on occasion of a church 
festival. P. v, iv, 55. 

codes, a corruption of God's. 
M. T. I, ii, 29. 

cog, cheat, cajole. P. i, i, 64, 
etc. 

conger, cucumber. P. 11, ii, 
46. 

curious, scrupulous. P. iii, 

i, 30- 
curst, cross, shrewish. P. n, 
iii, 41. 

dare, amaze, terrify. M. T. 

IV, i, 182. 
dazle, to be stupefied. M. T. 

IV, i, 199. 
donsels, young gentlemen, not 



344 



€>lo00ar^ 



yet admitted to knighthood. 

P. V, iv, 6i. 
dowcets, testes, p. IV, ii, 155 

V, iv, 6 1, 
duckers, cringers, bowers ; 

or, perhaps, duck-hunters, 

alluding to a favorite sport of 

the citizens. P. v, iv, 15. 
dullnesse, sleepiness. P. iv, 

iv, 6. 

face, pretend, lie v*^ith effront- 
ery. M. T. IV, i, 54. 

facers, shameless persons. M. 
T. IV, ii, 124. 

firker, a rouser, a fast one. P. 
IV, ii, 30. 

foist, a small vessel. P. v, iv, 
22. 

followers, pursuers. P. iv, 

'V, 33- 
foxe, a broad sword. P. iv, 

iii, 132. 
foremen, cant name for geese. 

P. V, iii, 175. 

galloone-laces, worsted laces 
woven in narrow ribbon or 
tape for binding. P. v, iv, 46. 

goatish, rank, coarse, barbar- 
ous. P. V, iii, 157. 

gols, gol/s, hands. P. v, iv. 



hand-wolf, tamed wolf. M. 

T. IV, i, 193. 
honest, chaste. P. II, ii, 5 ; 

IV, ii, 26. 



hull, to lie inactive with no 
sails set. P. v, iv, 24. 

humane, human. M. T. m, 
ii, 173. 

humourous, moody. M. T. 
I, ii, 27. 

inevitable, irresistible. M. T. 

Ill, ii, 79. 
ingenious, ingenuous. M. T. 

III, i, 211. 

jades, spurns, maltreats. P. 

I, i, 190. 
jag, cut or slash. P. v, iv, 44. 
jealous, suspicious. P. ii,iv, 

18, etc. 

kell, caule about the hart's 
paunch. P. v, iv, 45. 

kit, cittern, a kmd of guitar. 
P. V, iv, 68. 

layars, lairs. P. v, iii, 29. 

leg, a bow. P. I, i, 87. 

lyme-hound, a hound of the 
chase so-called from the lime 
or leash by which it was led. 
P. IV, i, 16. 

lodged, brought to covert. P. 

IV, ii, I. 

make, to train a hawk. P. v, 

iv, 125. 
miching, mitching, creeping, 

sneaking. P. iv, ii, 20. 
mued, mewed up. P. v, iii, 

153- 



^Io00ar^ 



345 



murrains, plagues. P. v, iii, 

H5- 
murrian, morion^ a helmet. 
P. V, iv, 88. 

phlebotomie, blood letting. 
p. n, ii, 45. 

physicall, good for the health. 
P. IV, i, 29. 

pickthanks, a tale-teller, 
** barbateur, a sicophant, a 
pickthanke, a privie whis- 
perer, a close detractor, a se- 
cret tale-teller, ' ' Cotgrave 
(B) ; M. T. Ill, i, 219. 

pollard, an animal, stag or ox, 
without horns. P. v, iv, 78. 

poppingjayes, parrots. P, 

I, i, 216. 

presses, creases. P. v, iii, 

150. 
prevent, anticipate. P. i, ii, 

199. 
prodigious, portentous, p. n, 

iv, 175 ; V, iii, 61. 
piramis, pyramid. P. iv, iv, 

91- 

raskall, rascal, a lean doe or 

deer. P. iv, ii, 20. 
readier, more ready, more 

dressed. M. T. in, i, 20. 
resolute, convinced. M. T. 

Ill, i, 280. 
resolve, convince. P, 11, iv, 

102 ; am convinced. M. T. 

II, i, 348. 

rid, despatch. M. T. 11, i, 327. 



ring-taile, an inferior sort of 

kite. P. V, iv, 57. 
rose-noble, gold coin stamped 

with rose. P. v, iv, 19. 
roarer, roaring boy, bully. P. 

v, iv, 86. 

SCarcenet, sarcenet, soft silk 
fabric. P. v, iv, 56. 

sea-breach, sea-beach. M.T. 
II, ii, 68 J irruption of the sea. 
P. V, iii, 200. 

servant, lover, the title con- 
ferred by ladies on their au- 
thorized admirers. P. i, i, 
124, etc. 

single, weak, feeble. P. v, 
iv, 56. 

sounds, swoons. M. T. v, 
iii, 227. 

soile, to fatten. P. v, iii, 
177. 

stand, a cask or the quantity 
of liquor that it contains. P. 
V, iv, 92. 

stone-bow, cross-bow that 
shoots stones. P. iv, ii, 10. 

sullen, dark. P. v, iii, 57. 

SUrsingle, band, girth. P. 
V, iv, 124. 

tainted, affected in mind. P. 
I, i, 222. 

three -piled, of the finest 

quality (of velvet). P. v, iv, 
16. 
tiller, cross-bow. P. 11, ii, 
45- 



346 



^lo00ar^ 



timelesse, untimely. M. T. i, 

ii, 68, etc. 
Towsabel, Dowsabel. P. n, 

ii, i6i. 
toy, whim. P. V, iii, 139. 
tract, tracked. P. iv, iv, 51, 
travells, labors. P. i, i, 1 60. 
troule, to sing a catch. P. v, 

iii, 137. 
turfe, cover a hat with fur or 

silk, P. IV, ii, 16. 
turtle, dove. P. I, i, 219. 

uds, corruption for judge in the 
expletive God's uds. P. iv, 
iii, 97. 

uncollected, not having con- 
trol of one's mental faculties. 
M. T. IV, ii, 315. 

unexprest, not to be ex- 
pressed. M. T. Ill, ii, 85. 



velvet-head, the hart's horns 
(head) when first appearing 
are covered with russet pile 
(velvet). P. IV, ii, 16. 

venies, bouts. P. iv, iii, 92. 

vild, vile ; the tivo words are 
used indifferently. 

wasters, cudgels. P. iv, iii, 
92. 

what-you-lacks, a nick- 
name for shop-keepers who 
thus addressed passers-by. P. 
V, iii, 131. 

wildernesse, wildness. M.T. 
V, iii, 150. 

winke, close the eyes. M. T. 
Ill, i, 272. 

wiper, a steel instrument for 
cleaning the bore of a musket. 
P. V, iv, 37. 



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